


A Chance in Hell

by NeverKnightfire



Series: The Heart’s Proximity [6]
Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Abduction, Al will never know who Pentious is, Alastor Has a Heart (Hazbin Hotel), Alastor the magical mad scientist, Blood and Gore, Body Horror, Body Modification, Cannibalism, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Devoted Alastor, Hurt/Comfort, Husk Swears (Hazbin Hotel), Idiots in Love, M/M, Magical Pregnancy, Mpreg, Panic Attacks, Soft Husk (Hazbin Hotel), Trauma, Violence, Wish Fulfillment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:46:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 57,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28136421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeverKnightfire/pseuds/NeverKnightfire
Summary: “I’d have liked a kid, I think,” Husk had said. Alastor had taken the words to heart; hearing the wistful, thwarted desire behind the purposefully dismissive tone.There was nothing to do but find a way that it could be possible. After years of experiments and research, he’d finally succeeded. Now, it would be up to Husker whether or not to take the chance on granting that wish.
Relationships: Alastor/Husk (Hazbin Hotel)
Series: The Heart’s Proximity [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2028173
Comments: 120
Kudos: 140





	1. A Choice

**Author's Note:**

> And then one day you end up writing a story with mpreg. I never expected it to come to this.

Husk was staring at a glass. 

It was not merely a glass, mind. It was a widemouthed margarita glass. Perfectly ordinary, on its own. Mundane, one might say. 

It wasn't the glass itself that was so fascinating, though. As with most drinkware, it was what was _inside_ the glass that was keeping the cat demon's attention. The vessel contained a wealth of shaved ice, marked with several colorful layers and a copious drizzle of something red that he was certain was not grenadine. 

Sure, he’d known that Al had some sort of weird pet project in the works for a while, now. He’d wondered about it idly, in the manner that one considers an abstract concept that doesn’t really concern them. 

And then, it had suddenly concerned him. His ridiculous husband looked him straight in the eye, hummed a syrupy-sweet "Surprise, my dear!", and presented him the glass in question with a sparkling, secretive smile. "Ask me what it is," he'd nearly purred with giddy anticipation. "Go ahead, ask me!" 

Husk had squinted at the glass then, examining it with a critical eye. It was an interesting presentation. The layers were a little messy in places, where the amateur bartender had added something too quickly and unevenly to maintain the rigid striation that advertised a quality layered cocktail as a perfectly-poured work of art. It smelled oddly of metal and something not quite reminiscent of smoked coconut. 

He was still staring at the concoction, and was baffled at what he was supposed to make of the thing.

Alastor found his thorough inspection vastly amusing, snickering his way through Husk's scrutiny from alongside. When Husk attempted to raise the glass, the Radio Demon seized his arm, arresting the movement before Husk could sample the offering. 

"Ask me what it is," Al repeated, a more serious tone and expression accompanying the question. "Before you do anything else, my love, ask me what it is." 

Husk paused at the earnest entreaty, considering. This was unusual behavior for his personal madcap hurricane of a husband. It was almost unnerving, seeing Al go so sober moments after he was prancing around the room, giggling like an ass over whatever his little secret was. 

"Alright, Al." Husk matched Alastor's grave expression with one of his own. "What the fuck IS it?" 

Instantly, Alastor's too-wide grin was back, and his hand moved from Husk's wrist to lightly embrace the pawlike hand holding the glass. "It's very simple, but also quite complicated, my dear. What it IS, that is a multifaceted question. To state the obvious, it is not merely an amateur cocktail. It is a potion. A miraculous elixir the likes of which neither Heaven nor Hell have seen before." 

"Okay..." Husk muttered with a frown. "Great." 

"That is the most literal answer," Alastor continued, his free hand coming up behind Husk to rub small circles on his upper back, just below the anchors of his wings. "But while it is a fantastic one, it does not truly answer your question. No indeed! What you hold in your hand, my dearest love, is more than the culmination of the most challenging research into combining complex magics that I have ever attempted. A result that is far more than the sum of its varied and rare parts." 

Al's hand moved from Husk's back to his side, pulling the bemused cat demon against Alastor's chest so that Alastor could lean his head against Husk's own. "This is a choice. An afterlife-changing one. The potential for your precious wish, my Husker," Al murmured softly into Husk's ear. "Do with it as you will. Whether you drink it or not, I offer it to you as evidence of my deepest affections." 

Husk managed to turn his head just enough to give his husband a baffled squint. "The fuck're you talking about? What is this?" 

The proud showman's grin on Alastor's face fell. "I... Was I mistaken, my dear? Did you not confess to me that you'd wished for children in your old life?" 

It was just as well that Al was holding onto Husk and the glass at this point, as the cat demon nearly collapsed from the unexpected question. "W-WHAT?!" 

Alastor's expression teetered on a frown, now. “We did speak of it, my dear. If you’ll recollect, we had a discourse on the subject not long before we wed.” 

Husk struggled to force his shocked brain into gear, blinking blearily up at Al in slack-jawed confusion. “Wha..? What the hell are you talking about, Al?” 

The subsequent deep sigh might have seemed melodramatic to someone who didn’t know him. Husk’s long acquaintance with the Radio Demon meant realizing it meant that he really and truly did believe what he was saying. Al’s disgruntled face became something more like a pout as he raised his bright crimson gaze to meet Husk’s eyes. 

“We were having a delightful evening at home – I’d made blackened catfish and a lovely etouffèe, and over drinks we were speaking of both our pasts and about our future together. You were quite sober, I’d stake my afterlife on that. But you mentioned that one thing you’d always wanted in your old life was children...”

Husk’s eyes went wide at the description. He **did** remember the evening in question. It had been the anniversary of their first date. They’d dressed up and everything since it was a special occasion, even though they’d only been going to Al’s for dinner.

Alastor had worn a black and maroon suit and Husk had deigned to wear an outfit Charlie and Angel Dust had helped him pick out.

His mind had identified it as weirdly overdone; slacks and a specially-made dress shirt with two layers of vests that he thought seemed a little redundant. He’d been told repeatedly that he was mistaken and Al had certainly approved of the look. He still had the outfit and wore it for special occasions, but... 

He forced himself to tune back into Al’s running monologue. 

“And so, I decided that I would find a way to grant your heart’s desire. I thought it only fitting; my darling one deserves everything he wishes. I’ve been researching the notion ever since, starting that very night."

Al looked reproachful as he admitted "I have tried to hint at the project here and there. When you told me recently that you preferred a surprise, I was certain you were on to my scheme.”

Alastor was watching Husk's reactions with a careful, cautious regard now, smiling with an uncommon warmth in his eyes and coloring his words with cinnamon sparks as he spoke. “Certainly, it was a challenging puzzle, and it took a regrettably long time to put the pieces together in a way that I could be confident in, but I wanted-“

Husk had begun to gape in something between awe and horror at the deer demon as he continued to monologue. It was supposed to be impossible for a mortal-born demon to even HAVE a child, genders of the parents be damned. Hellborn demons and native hell beasts could procreate all they wanted. Mortal-born demons were effectively neutered by their new physiology upon arrival in the underworld, however.

Alastor was claiming that somehow, he’d gotten around that. Like hell if Husk understood even a fraction of the garbage that his husband had been spouting, though. When his limbs finally responded to his brain again, his free hand was grabbing at Al's collar. His voice a near-shriek of outraged shock that silenced his husband instantly.

“What… the fuck. Alastor, what the FUCK?! I mention something… fucking ONCE, and you’re immediately off pervading the laws of nature and... and… and whatever fucking HELL operates on. UN-nature, or whatever the fuck it is… and… and fucking shit?!” 

Alastor blinked at him, politely and perfectly baffled. “Naturally, my darling. I would topple the King of kings himself, if you only desired it.” Husk flailed for a moment with a goggle-eyed squawk of surprise, almost managing to stagger out of Al's grip. 

“I would break any law for you, darling,” Alastor continued, gaze adoring and level, tone matter-of-fact. “That of man, of nature, of the Old Gods or beyond. I would give you anything within my power, and if it were out of my power, then I would seize it posthaste.” 

Husk’s wings gave the same embarrassing flutter that his heart sputtered out in reply.

Alastor smiled warmly at the flabbergasted cat demon. “You are so incredibly dear to me, my darling Husker. I struggle at times to understand it, myself. I want only for your joy, mon chéri.” 

The cat buried his face in his free hand, flush-faced at the words and the true depth of what was being said. “Y-You fucker, you can’t just say shit like that when I’m not prepared! And especially not in goddamn French while you're making that face at me!” Alastor merely chuckled as Husk scrubbed a forearm across his face. The image of the glass in his hand still threatened to swim with disbelieving tears when he stared at it. 

Alastor, goddamn him, he'd done it again. He'd done something so outrageously over the top that it defied belief. It was impossible, what he claimed to have done. It was nearly as ridiculous as vowing to dethrone the Almighty One themself for Husk's mere amusement. Husk wasn't even certain if he could trust the bastard was engaging in hyperbole to make a point, or if he was making a promise. So often with Al, it was difficult to tell the difference between the two. 

Hell, sometimes the bastard would take it as a challenge to turn his exaggerations into reality. 

When Husk finally trusted his voice again, he gave his husband a flustered glare. “Goddamn it, you bastard, don't say shit like that out loud! If crap like that gets back to Heaven somehow, they'll smite your ass! How the hell did you even...? Shit, I don't know if I want to kiss you stupid or knock you in the fucking head!”

“I do have a preference between those options,” Al piped up cheerily. 

Husk pulled a heavy paw down his face, glaring flatly at the man and his stupid, kissable smirk. Goddamn it, but his heart did breathlessly swing at the idea of his long-ago daydreaming thoughts of parenthood, now that the initial shock had worn off.

He could have this? It seemed too incredible to be true.

All those ideas he’d wistfully entertained as a man in his prime, watching his contemporaries. All those regrets he’d held as his time Before had grown shorter, and more isolated. All the resentment he’d had when arriving in Hell, discovering that even if he had somehow found someone he’d considered making the attempt with, that it would be for nothing.

Alastor had heard or perhaps seen it all in the space of that one date, and promptly decided to find a way to tell the laws of Hell’s nature to fuck off. All because… because he was a devoted, endearing, and slightly deranged jackass with boundary issues and far too much initiative.

Fucking hell, Husk was going to get carried away himself and actually kiss the guy stupid one day, probably soon.

"How does this work?" he managed to ask, and Al's face lit up like Christmas goddamn morning. Alastor grinned broadly as Husk pulled the glass close and eyed it protectively. As he stared into the steaming ice, his husband was in motion, darting around the room. A breath later and he was sketching out a quick diagram and a lot of arcane symbols and what was probably fourth level cursed as fuck forbidden magic on a napkin.

"I won't bore you with the details of the exact spells and enchantments that I combined. The effect is a blend of partial transmogrification and a particular fusion of blood magicks." 

"Blood magic," Husk repeated, eyeing the bright red topping of the weird drink distrustfully. 

"Indeed!" Al agreed with a nod. "I'm afraid I've been unable to successfully maintain the conditions required for a successful soul-forging outside of a physical body, however. The environment, you know. I’m afraid that a host is required, inconvenient thing that it is." 

The Radio Demon's face gave a faint contortion of distaste. "That is why I said that this is a choice, my darling. Should you choose to partake of this magic, part of your form will be altered for the duration of the event to carry the lifeforce that our combined blood will create. It will only be temporary, this..." he gestured vaguely. "This makeshift container, but creating it will be... unpleasant. That is, as I suppose you could put it, the bad news about the process." 

Husk took a deep breath and let it out slowly at the proclamation, before deciding a change of subject was in order. “This sounds… really goddamn intense.”

"I'm afraid so, my darling. They do say anything worth having is worth suffering for, but it is ultimately your decision whether or not to-" There he went, droning on again as he paced his cluttered study and gestured. Something was exclaimed about three days’ worth of discomfort and pain.

Husk licked his lips with anticipation. Three days? Three days of temporary hell was nothing. He'd had five alarm hangovers that had lasted twice that long. He wasn't wild about the downsides but the result... he wanted that.

Goddamned blood magic bullshit or whatever it was, he wasn't picky. Of all the regrets he'd had about his life, this one had been a particularly sore spot. His husband was a damned cursed magic fairy godmother, and this was going to be weird as fuck, but he wasn't missing this chance. 

Alastor didn't realize at first that Husk was downing the layered potion he'd been holding. The Radio Demon had practiced this speech into the wee hours of that morning, and so preoccupied was he in giving it that the empty margarita glass being pressed back into his hands was a surprise. 

"You... You've done it already?" he asked numbly, almost disbelieving of the sight. 

"Your explanation was long and boring," Husk retorted with a smirk. "Plus, you're weird. Who comes up with a notion like this, honestly? You’re a goddamned magical mad scientist.” 

Alastor studied him for a few long seconds, his amusement wafting from him in gentle waves like the scent of his cologne. Forests long forgotten to time, marked with hidden treasures that awaited those bold enough to pursue them.

“Well, in that case, I am pleased to be the architect of your desires, my dearest love,” Alastor hummed; almost laughing as he took a deep, theatrical bow. “I remain your besotted, devoted servant.”

The warm candlelight of affection in his eyes turned serious, then. “Now make a wish, and brace yourself, my darling. I’m afraid that I was not yet done with my explanation when you partook.”


	2. Place Your Bets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Husk wasn’t one to waffle on a decision. You made your choice and you stuck with it, that was the way with gambling. No do-overs, no second thoughts. 
> 
> ...But maybe he should have listened a little more closely to Al’s long-winded speech before rolling the dice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well. I guess we’re doing this. 
> 
> Please note: tags have been updated. If I have missed a tag that you feel should be included, please let me know.

Husk opened his mouth to jeer right back at his husband when a skin-rippling shudder rocked the cat demon on his feet. His fur and feathers began to rise up in agitation as he shivered with some incredible, bone-deep foreboding. 

It took a moment for Husk to process that the sensation was physical, instead of an emotional reaction to Alastor’s grim expression. 

Wait, was this already the effects of the magic? It was happening now? _This very moment?!_

The realization was swiftly followed by what felt like being punched in the gut with a large, serrated knife that decided to start burrowing around his insides. Husk’s breath left him with a squeaky wheeze, and he couldn’t seem to get it back. Heart hammering in his chest, he stumbled to the floor, mind a fumbling, panicked blank. 

“Darling?!” Al’s voice sounded distant, underwater. Husk couldn’t get enough air to answer him. His ragged attempts at breathing quaked with a sob as the deer demon raced to his side and pulled him close. Husk’s vision tunneled down to only being Al’s face as the other leaned over him. 

“Breathe through your nose, darling. Your nose! Husker, darling? Please, listen to me!” Alastor cast about for a moment, then something was pressed into the cat demon’s desperately gaping, wide-open mouth.

“Husker. BITE DOWN!” Alastor snapped, eyes blazing. 

Husk’s jaws snapped shut reflexively, and he automatically took a deep breath at the hot, bitter liquid that flooded his mouth. After a few breaths, his vision cleared enough to discern the pained grimace on Alastor’s face.

The deer demon gave him a slightly more natural smile as their eyes met. “There you are, my darling one,” Alastor sighed in shaky relief. Husk swallowed reflexively at the realization that he had Al’s left forearm clamped between his teeth. His mouth was flooding with blood. 

The notion was accompanied by a bout of severe vertigo, and Husk whined around the bleeding limb in his jaws. Alastor loomed in Husk’s vision, and belatedly the cat demon realized that he was being cradled in the other’s lap. Alastor was making soft, soothing noises as he stroked Husk’s face gently. 

“Focus on me. That's it, Husker. It will be alright. Mwen regrèt, cher.” 

The two of them stayed like that for a while; Alastor’s mangled arm roughly seized in Husk’s teeth, and Husk’s trembling body cradled in Alastor’s careful embrace. At last, the tremors wracking the cat demon’s body began to subside, and he felt the death grip his aching jaw had on Al’s arm begin to relax.

The fact that the blood had begun to clot around his mouth was almost as disturbing as the realization that his fangs were buried deep in Alastor’s flesh. 

He opened his mouth as wide as he could, shivering at the sensation of the bloody tissue pulling away from his sharp teeth. A few long, trailing threads of red-stained spit connected them for a moment, until Alastor gently wiped a hand across the exhausted cat demon’s mouth.

The deer demon looked rather serious for once, his typical smile faded to a thin, straight line that twitched downward ever so slightly as he stared down at Husk’s tired expression. 

“Oh, my dearest love, I do apologize.” Alastor sighed softly, paying no regard to the torn, mangled flesh of the arm connected to the hand that was so gently stroking Husk’s face. “I'm afraid I was not attentive enough to prevent you from doing something you’d regret. I did not do enough to prepare you for this decision.” 

Husk made a grumble of objection as he eyed the bleeding limb, and spat a gob of blood onto the floor. "It’s my own fault for jumping the gun and not listening to the full details. That fuckin' sucked, but shaddap. I knew it was gonna be weird. An’ I’ll have you know I ain’t regretting anything just yet.” 

He panted for a moment; eyes closed against the remorseful look on his husband’s stupid face. “Fuckin' hell... I feel like there's piranhas having a damned dinner party in my gut.” 

Alastor fidgeted beneath him, fingers dancing cautiously along Husk’s face. The cat demon recoiled at the uncharacteristically subdued, sorrowful expression his husband was wearing.

Forget the magic bullshit happening to his insides, THIS was the most unnatural thing happening at the moment. Husk reached for the sides of his Al's face, forcing the deer demon to look him in the eye. 

"Let's make one thing perfectly damn clear right now, though. I picked this, no matter what happens. You just remember that, dear hart.”

Alastor’s expression slid from cautious remorse to a fond, dazzling grin at the seldom-used endearment. Dewdrops spangled with newborn stars were there. Endless, impossible fields of aromatic vanilla-ginger blossoms, with a hint of something like burning leaves crinkling warmly at the edges.

It was stupid to label the expression as “love”. Love was too inadequate a word to encompass the precipice beyond the teetering, dangerously steep edges of that gaze.

It was everything. Everything that kindled warmth within Husk’s soul, but reflected, magnified and set alight in a brilliant display that put the pathetic four-letter word “love” to shame.

Husk let his gaze fall to the sight of Alastor’s red-soaked sleeve and hand, and the champagne delight bubbling in his heart was stilled with icy horror. Goddamn… what had he done? His stomach gave a trembling lurch of a flip at the reminder of the cooling blood around his mouth and the coppery taste within it.

“Fucking hell, that’s a lot of blood. Shit, is that okay? Did I just fuck up your… freaky goddamned magical bullshit or whatever?!” Alastor turned his head to look at the injury, and stilled.

”Al?” Husk prodded, churning gut clenching at the sight.

Al didn’t need something as mundane as first aid for such a minor event as a demon bite, not with his power. Husk knew that. He was better aware of his husband's abilities than almost anyone else in Hell. Al was making no move to see to the injury, though.

Unnerved, Husk set to work, tearing his claws into the tattered remains of Alastor’s sleeve. 

As he worked, ripping the fabric into long pieces to fashion a tourniquet, Al thoughtfully muttered to himself. The Radio Demon’s gaze was now fixed on his own hands. When Husk nudged him, Alastor startled as if awakened from a deep trance.

“I must admit,” he mused, after being prompted once more, “this far outpaces my original calculations. However, those were mostly done with an eye on what the minimal requirement was, in order to minimize the ah… rather pungent flavor qualities.”

His countenance warmed again, then, and he brushed his right hand gently over the side of Husk’s face with a tender, light scrape of his clawed nails through the thick fur. “I don’t believe that there should be any serious side-effects, other than perhaps a little more potential influence on power. Or potentially appearance, which would be a terrible shame, really.”

At Husk’s incredulous frown, the Radio Demon grinned mischievously and murmured something about the idea of a tiny, kitten-like demon being a very snuggle-worthy notion.

Husk blushed his way through an uncomfortable twisting in his stomach. “G-Great. Well, what about you?” Alastor brightened at the query, leaning in to rest his forehead against Husk’s for a moment. He let out a deep breath before straightening, and kissed his usual spot between the marks on the cat-like demon’s forehead before pulling away.

“Myself? Not to worry, my darling. I’m quite sound. This paltry bit of blood loss isn’t going to do me any harm.” He gave Husk’s regretful face a knowing look before flexing the limb with a wince. “I deserve this and more, for my failure. Perhaps it will remind me to be more alert in the coming days.” Husk frowned at the statement.

With a snap of his fingers, Alastor’s shadows rushed over them both, cleaning away the blood that had coated them. The bloodied bandage remained. Al was choosing to let the injury heal itself instead of magically curing the wound. A distasteful act, even if it would be gone by the next day.

Distasteful indeed, Husk grimaced as he detected the taste still in his mouth. “Ugh, dammit I need a drink. I suppose that’s out of the question, though.” He sighed at Alastor’s sheepish grin. 

”Fan-fucking-tastic. Any more good news?" Husk asked sarcastically, only to be stunned anew as Alastor spoke again. 

“Yes, I have managed to cut the process down to a mere three days!” Alastor’s chest puffed out with pride. “Perhaps it’s not creating a universe from nothingness, but I must admit that getting it down below seven was a personal goal that I set for myself, ha ha!” 

“THREE FUCKING DAYS?!” Husk gaped, jaw almost painfully slack with shock. “This shit takes months even for HELLBORNS!” 

Alastor positively glowed with pride. On his own, he could have illuminated the Pentagram like a miniature sun. “My original concept, I admit, was three months long. I quickly determined that would be an unacceptably long time for you to be out of commission, however. Additionally, it would paint a rather undesirable target on your back once the news of the event broke, and assuredly it would.”

The deer demon's expression fell then, settling into a dark glower. “I have enemies who would dearly love just such an opportunity for mischief. I will not risk you, Husker. Never, when I could prevent it.” 

Husk collected his jaw from the floor with great effort. He had no idea how Al managed his magical meddling, but it seemed that there was no end to his spellbinding prowess. So that was what the three days were his husband had been lecturing about? And here Husk had thought that three days was how long it would take for the potion to take effect! 

He glanced down at his stomach, halfway convinced that he’d see some evidence of the weird squirmy feeling going on in his guts. So far, he noted, nothing. Good god, if shit kept moving around down there, he was going to lose his lunch.

“I assume you’ve thought this through,” he continued. “Where the kid’s gonna sleep, some kind of diapers, what they’re gonna eat…” Another possibility occured to him, and he paused before hissing “If you gave me tits as part of this deal, we’re gonna have a HUGE fucking problem, Alastor!” 

The deer demon straightened with an affronted huff, face squinted in on itself in a horribly insulted pout. “I would not dare sully your form so... excessively! I assure you, the barest minimum of temporary alterations has been done, and you know of all of them. No, I’ve done quite a bit of research on natal demon nutrition, and have found suitable nourishment, I assure you.”

Husk’s unimpressed glare didn’t lessen. “Good to know. Now what about the rest of it?” 

Alastor blinked. “What’s that?” 

“Bottles, blankets, beds, things that don’t begin with B, but that you need for a damned BABY!” Husk snapped, feeling his annoyance rise as the startled look in Alastor’s eyes increased. “Ya thought about that, right? Diapers, at least?”

Alastor blinked stupidly, then shrugged with a soft giggle. “A few minor details may have slipped my mind in the excitement of my groundbreaking discovery. My darling one, have you considered just how incredible that this truly is?” 

“Minor… details…” Husk groaned in irritation, pulling a hand down his face to massage the bridge of his nose. “We got THREE days to figure this shit out, Al. THREE.” He gave a wheezy hiccup as he felt something lurch deep inside his gut. “Holy shit, I’m gonna get motion sick if that keeps up. What the hell is going on in there?” 

Alastor brightened, leaning in to prod at Husk’s side experimentally. “Well, I did need to do a little minor rearranging to accommodate things. All quite safe, I assure you. While this is a prototypical run with the full accelerant, I have checked and triple checked all the calculations, and well, there are a few other…”

“Okay stop. I’m getting queasy just hearing about it,” Husk sighed. “Just tell me what you *have* planned for, and we’ll go from there. You got a doc or something in mind? It'd better not be that weirdo that made those egg things for Pentious.” 

“Who?” Alastor asked absently, pulling a large book from the densely-populated shelf and flipping through his tome with single-minded purpose. “Never mind, darling. No, I intend to be the sole attending staff. I’m far better equipped to be seeing to you and our eventual offspring, as I’m the only one who knows exactly what’s been done and what to look for.”

Husk leaned back with a skeptical snort. “Al, don’t take this the wrong way, but I am not exactly jumping up for the idea of you vivisecting me open or whatever it is you have planned. If we gotta, then we gotta, but-“ 

The deer demons' eyes flicked to meet Husk’s over the top of his book.

“Whatever are you talking about, my dearest? Tsk, such little faith you have at times. I haven’t the slightest intention of doing any such violence to your person unless you or the child are in distress. Never fear, my darling, I have done the research, dabbled in a bit of testing for the creative process, and we will not be taking any unnecessary risks!”

With a grand gesture, Alastor pulled a piece of paper from the confines of the heavy volume in his hand. “Aha! Here it is! At the point of safe delivery, I have projected that we will require appropriate materials for feeding…” he paused to give Husk a significant look. “Which I have taken care of.” 

“Bottles?” Husk prompted, making the Radio Demon frown thoughtfully before scribbling on his page. “Diapers? Maybe some clothes?” the cat demon pressured, initiating another round of the same. “Preparations to clean both of those?” Husk insisted, earning a curious glance over the top of Alastor’s book.

“Ya do realize that the kid’s gonna need stuff cleaned a hell of a lot faster than a regular dish and laundry cycle, right? Ya better have something ready, because the kid ain’t gonna have a concept of waiting.” 

Alastor muttered to himself with a scowl, but scribbled again. With that done, he straightened with a sniff. “Ahem,” he cleared his throat pointedly. Husk rolled his eyes. “And I see here that there is another item you have pressed for consideration: sleeping accommodations. I have already obtained something suitable. Behold!” 

There was a flash of crimson light and a rather ominous-looking crib fashioned of gnarled, twisted tree branches in a deep black hue, accented with fittings in a shiny coppery finish. A dark maroon cushion and blanket rested inside. Husk felt his brow rise at the sight. 

“This thing looks like a fuckin’ sacrificial alter or something.” 

Alastor’s smug grin faltered. “Whatever do you mean?” 

Husk gestured vaguely at the piece of excessively gothic furniture. “I mean look at it. Looks like you got it from Rosemary’s garage sale.” 

“Who?”

Husk rolled his eyes. "Forget it. I'm saying I think it's a bit creepy. No, scratch that, it's a lot creepy. I wanna pick something different." He scrambled around for a moment, a disorganized mass of limbs and cursing, before recovering his balance and standing up.

"Right now, in fact. Emergency shopping trip, Al. I'm not waiting around for you to figure this out on yer own and time is of the essence."

"Are you NESTING? Already? That's adorable!"

Husk shoved the other demon over when he tried to stand. "Shaddap. I want a nice recliner too, ya jackass."

Despite his best intentions, Alastor was never one for being subtle. It only took five minutes of being in one of Hell’s few baby needs emporiums for the news that the Radio Demon had knocked someone up to be hissing its’ way through the unholy grapevine. 

The notion was so ludicrous that most didn’t believe it, immediately discounting the notion that the infamous Radio Demon could have been seduced successfully by some succubus or other entity. Alastor himself was famously repulsed by physical intimacy, they reminded. It was unthinkable. Unfathomable. 

The news that the person in question was his (presumably) very male husband didn’t so much spread like wildfire as it erupted like the blast radius of a nuclear strike. The initial news was so quickly outpaced by the latest that most of Pentagram City had heard that Alastor had somehow perverted the very laws of nature before the Radio Demon and his doted-upon beau had even made it out of the first stop on their impromptu shopping expedition. 

Husk noted the stares as he trailed Alastor out of the shop, and did his best to ignore the queasy feeling in his stomach. He simultaneously felt both ravenous hunger and adequate nausea that he was certain he could throw up if he put his mind to it, and the stares weren’t helping at all. 

His large ears flicked back and forth, catching a bit of a whispered comment here, and a muffled conversation there. He pulled at Alastor’s arm, which was looped casually through his own. 

“Al, they know.” 

“Hm? What’s that, darling?” 

“They know.” 

“Who?” 

“Fuckin’ EVERYONE. Look around. This ain’t your usual crowd of gawkers. I can hear ‘em talking, and I’m telling you that THEY KNOW.” 

Alastor hummed at that, pulling his arm free to wrap it around Husk’s waist instead. “Unfortunate. We shall have to take greater care moving forward and trust that our timeline outpaces any boldness from the ambitious.”

Husk’s shoulders rose around his drooping head as a hellphone camera clicked in the distance. Large red wings raised defensively at the unwelcome attention. 

“Take me home, Al.”

Alastor threw a vicious snarl back over his shoulder at the source of the disturbance and his shadow erupted from the ground to drag several screaming demons straight into the ground with a great, grisly display of teeth and claws. 

“Come now, my love. What do the opinions of the peons matter? Now, should we jump straight to the furniture store or would you fancy a detour first?” 

Husk let himself be pulled snug against Alastor’s reassuring side as the garbled, stomach-churning screams faded behind them.

He could do this. He could get through one more shopping stop and then go home. It would be fine. He had a crib and at least one comfy recliner to pick out, then it would be straight home to safety and no goddamned paparazzi.


	3. Newsbreak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It had been inevitable that the news would get out, but Alastor was confident that no one would dare approach them so soon. 
> 
> What could happen if they made just one more stop before heading home?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A note on some of the attitudes in this chapter towards Husk: I’m working under the assumption that unless you’re stupidly powerful, the more ‘animal-like’ your demon form, the less respect you get. Since Husk is just a “regular demon”, he gets no respect from the snobby types.

Velvet had watched the news break over Hell’s social networks like a tsunami. She was both confused by the rumors and spellbound by how outrageous they were. This was some kind of joke, right? Vox had hacked her phone and was pranking her with the most distasteful joke ever. That had to be it. 

The thin demoness squinted at her phone, turned it off and on, and screeched in frustration and disbelief at how the ridiculous nonsense wasn’t just persisting, but spreading. It was all over her newsfeed. It was in her Hellstagram followers’ newsfeeds. It was everywhere, and spreading like the plague on steroids. 

The Sugar Demoness frowned, and then began spamming emojis of disbelief and shock as more and more of the digital world was dominated by the unbelievable story. It was a hoax. It had to be. 

Didn’t it..?

An investigation was in order, or she wasn’t going to be able to finish her cake in peace.

It was barely an effort to push past the long-suffering security demons of Vox’s broadcasting station. You just couldn’t stab good help these days. Instead of bemoaning her lack of entertainment, Velvet shoved her way into Vox’s office.

“Are you behind this stuff?” she demanded, waving her hellphone at the media demon. “I mean come on! Points for originality, but the joke’s over, turn it off!”

Vox turned from watching the wall of monitors closest to his desk to stare in annoyed confusion at the furious Velvet. “What are you talking about?” His reaction gave the shorter demoness pause, and she looked back at her phone to reassure herself that the madness was still ongoing instead of another prolonged, freakish hallucination from eating too much cream cheese frosting.

“Wait, if it’s not you...? Okay, so who IS behind all these rumors? It’s all over the internet! All of Hell has caught crazy all of a sudden and is convinced that the radio hack somehow impregnated that... pet cat of his!” 

Vox was so stunned that his screen flickered with interference as he absorbed the statement. A test pattern replaced the image of his face for a breathless moment. “They’re saying *what?* What kind of ridiculous stunt is Alastor pulling?” 

Velvet shook her head, pigtails flying about her face as she stared at her hellphone. “I have like… no idea, but it’s currently dominating the trending news. I can’t believe you’re not covering it!” 

As if on cue, the channel 666 news suddenly broke into every one of the copious screens lining the walls of Vox’s office. Katie Killjoy, barely keeping a straight face at the laughable headline, began reciting the incredible rumor. Behind her, a blurry hellphone photo of Alastor in what looked like an upscale goods store appeared. An imaginative person could believe him to be giving a baby crib a very critical eye. At the bottom of the image, the feathered tail of his cat demon companion poked into the frame. 

The television-faced demon’s confused expression turned into one of fury as the broadcast continued. The ratings had to be through the roof as Killjoy and her co-anchor recited the latest breaking speculation over the story. Vox’s snarl of fury made the images on the wall flicker with interference. “Alastor, dominating MY airwaves?! I don’t know what ridiculous scheme he’s plotting, but I intend to find out. Where was that photo taken?!” 

Velvet was already reverse image searching the picture, and soon had the HPS location of the shop in question for her associate. “Oooo! If you’re going to destroy the Radio Demon, I should go along. We’ll livestream his demise for all of Hell to see! I’ll make caramel popcorn!” She sing-singed the last part with a gleeful chortle. 

Vox straightened his ascot with a sneer. “Velvet, when I destroy Alastor, I will need no help with spreading the news of his demise.” With a jolt of power, the television demon vanished into the lines of electricity that ran through Hell.

Left alone in his office, Velvet scoffed. “That’s gratitude for you.” She dropped into his chair and snapped a selfie with the wall of news coverage in the background. “Where were you when #RadioBabyGate broke?” She asked her followers. 

Husk was currently on the floor of Rosie’s Emporium, giving a cradle a critical eye. The riotous feeling in his gut had finally subsided, but now he was starting to feel utterly tired. The argument over a chair and loveseat back at the furniture shop had taken more out of him than he’d like to let on, but he’d be doubly damned if he let the fatigue show in front of Alastor and his friend. 

The kid still was going to need someplace to sleep, and it was absolutely NOT going to be that fucking creepy as hell murder crib. 

He was dead certain that letting the thing be had been Al’s goal in rushing him out of the poorly-stocked baby shop in the first place. The fucker KNEW that the furniture shop wouldn’t have shit that would be acceptable, and had attempted to pull a fast one. No way was Husk giving the bastard the satisfaction of the win.

Behind him, Alastor was regaling the store owner, one of the overlords, with the apparently scandalous tale of Husk’s behavior at the furniture shop. 

“…And then, Husker decides upon this… TRAVESTY of a purple chair. Rosie my dear, you would not believe the sight of this monstrosity. I suppose we could have it reupholstered, but the memory of that color will haunt my-“ 

“Al, I wanted someplace comfortable and easy to clean because we’re going to be holding a damned BABY on it,” Husk broke in, turning to give his husband a long-suffering glare. “Ya seen any babies? They’re MESSY. Trust me, ya may not even be able to SEE the original color of that chair in a few weeks, and ya damn well ain’t gonna CARE so long as you’re able to sleep in it.” 

Alastor adopted an affronted look as the spooky, empty-eyed ghoul that was Rosie giggled delicately into her gloved hand. “Having been around a few young ones, I’m afraid I can attest to that, Alastor my dear!” The deer demon swiveled his head to favor her with his expression, which sent the lady into another wave of titters. 

“Oh now don’t look at me like that, Alastor! At any rate, you can always burn the thing once it’s outlived its usefulness!” 

Husk wished the eerie wench had visible eyes. It would be really damned good to know if she was favoring him with a glance as she said things like that. Spooky-ass bitch was making his feathers prickle and his fur want to rise. 

“Al, pay the lady,” he groused, shuffling to rise to his feet once more. The cradle was a very basic design, but it was sturdily made, seemed to be unmarked by any charms or spells other than a rather generic one to keep the occupant contained, and most importantly it did not look like a horror film prop. 

Alastor’s offense struggled to contain itself as he nodded. Rosie grinned broadly, sharp, shark-like teeth on full display as Husk slouched back over to stand beside the deer demon. “Now dearie, I did tell you that the first one was… extravagant.” 

Husk glanced expectantly over at Alastor just in time to see his eye twitch a bit at the ‘I told you so’. Served the tasteless dumbass right. 

“I must admit,” Rosie continued, turning her face and blackened gaze towards Husk once more, “I was curious as to what exactly Alastor had in mind when he came to me for such an item, but seeing the results is still quite startling.” 

Husk made the executive decision not to straighten self-consciously at the scrutiny. “Yeah, it’s been an interesting day all around,” he agreed blandly. 

He and Rosie had an understanding. She couldn’t figure out what Al saw in him, and he thought she was a condescending bitch. 

Their only thread of common ground was Alastor, and for his sake they both mutually and silently agreed to tolerate each other as best they could. Al had few close friends, and desperately wanted the ones he had to get along like one big happy found-family.

Even though the well-dressed demoness’ head did not move, Husk could feel her gaze sweep up and down his body. He frowned and suppressed a shudder. 

“Well, just go ahead and take this now, and send back the first when you have the opportunity, Alastor dear,” Rosie continued, her eyeless gaze still burning holes in Husk’s midsection. “We don’t get a lot of call for this sort of thing to begin with, so there’s no rush. If you have time, I’d love to hear more about how you’ve accomplished the impossible.” 

Alastor brightened at that, even as Husk fought the urge to groan. So much for getting home quickly.

Alastor gave the lady an enthusiastic smile so large that Husk’s own face hurt to look at it. “Oh it was much fascinating process, and much more involved than I had originally projected! But I’m afraid I’ll be keeping my secrets under my hat for now.” He winked at Husk then, in a manner that the cat demon knew was purposefully cheesy and obnoxious before returning his attention back to his fellow Overlord. “Not that I don’t trust you, my dear, but one never knows who could be listening!” 

The demoness chuckled softly at that, an intrigued tilt to her head. “You always do find the most interesting ways to liven things up, Alastor. You do have the most remarkable talent for mischief. Well, I won’t keep you then, I believe your darling Husk is feeling a bit wrung out after all this excitement.” 

Husk straightened from the bowed posture he’d unconsciously slumped into with a lurch. “M’fine!” he insisted. “Just need a little pick-me-up to get me going again.” The thought of his nice comfortable bed back home was singing a siren’s song in the back of his head, despite his claims, and he had to struggle to resist the urge to yawn. 

Alastor nodded absently as he magicked the purchased cradle back home. “Yes, well perhaps it’s best we don’t overdo things. Thank you so much for your time, Rosie my dear lady. We’ll just be running along home. I’ll send that other item back as soon as-“ 

Husk turned towards the door to the shop as Alastor began to prattle pleasantries, intent on making his escape. With any luck, maybe that coffee place down the way was still open and he could snag something to wake him up again before anyone realized who he was.

Just as he was almost in reach of the door, it swept open with a bang and Vox swept into the building in a blaze of LED-bright glory, screen showing him with his mouth open ready to announce his presence and whatever he’d deemed appropriate as the overture of his arrival. 

Startled into a state of pure adrenal terror and more than a little hormonal, Husk reacted to the sudden presence without thinking. “Threat!”, every fiber of his being screamed. He made a leaping hop backwards, curling forward as his back arched and his outstretched wings raised in an instinctual urge to make himself look bigger, more dangerous. His ears pinned backwards and his claws all extended. 

A long, wavering growl that finished with a vicious, fang-baring hiss erupted from his mouth, and his long tail thrashed behind him. He didn’t recognize the intruding Overlord in his overwrought state. All of his senses had suddenly gone into a frenzied overdrive at the sudden appearance of something he could only identify as terrible danger. 

Taken off guard, Vox hesitated, staring at the yowling cat demon just long enough to register what he was seeing, and recoil with shock. Before he could react, Alastor had teleported himself across the room and between the two, directly into the overlord’s space, grinning maniacally at the television-faced demon with murderous malice dripping from every fiber of his being. 

Alastor’s shadow appeared behind him, pulling the angrily caterwauling Husk back towards Rosie and the shop interior with urgent, single-minded purpose. 

“Vox. A singular displeasure.” Alastor’s grin was unnaturally wide and his eyes were a solid, glowing red as he stood before the media overlord. His microphone’s single eye glared as it stared down the television-faced demon. Collecting himself, Vox managed a sneer in the Radio Demon’s direction. 

“Alastor. I’ve heard the rumors of your latest stunt, and I have come to assure you that I won’t stand for whatever your scheme is. Whatever you’re up to with-“ 

Alastor’s eyes blinked over to radio dials immediately, and a piercing, tinnitus-spawning squeal of feedback sparked between the two. “I can assure you,” Alastor’s disembodied voice growled, lighting up his bared teeth, “What I am ‘up to’ has nothing to do with the likes of you. Leave. Now.” 

Flickers of static danced at the periphery of the Radio Demon’s form. The warbling growl from his cat demon friend sounded from behind the leering crimson deer, lending his presence a further level of unsettling menace. 

Vox frowned, a derisive scoff tearing its way from his throat. “Oh please, Alastor. Don’t make me laugh at your pathetic attempt at bravado in front of your companions.” Subtle color bars flickered behind the Media Demon as he sneered back at the furious deer demon. Perhaps he should have brought along Velvet after all. The entire Pentagram seeing Alastor get his presumptive, obsolete ass handed to him would have been priceless. 

Rosie stepped forward alongside Alastor, a frown marring her typically pristine features. “Vox, if you’re here to start a confrontation and agitate my customers, I’m afraid we’re going to have a problem. Kindly leave.” 

Vox growled low in his throat. For a moment the electronic garble vied for dominance against Alastor’s screeching static. The sight of the lowly beast warbling its own defiance from behind the Radio Demon caught Vox’s eye, and he grimaced once more. It chafed to stand down, but there was more at stake than merely his own momentary satisfaction.

”This is far from over, Alastor. This time you’ve gone too far, and I’ll see to it that you and your pitiful beast are crushed for your insolence.”

With a furious snarl, the Media Demon vanished back into the electrical grid of Hell. The inhabitants of the store stood breathless for a moment, but while the power flickered briefly with Vox’s outrage, he did not appear again. 

“Doubtless he’s gone off to nurse his wounded pride,” sighed Rosie. “What a bothersome young man.” She turned to see Alastor and his shadow leaning over Husk as the cat demon wavered and then collapsed to sit on the floor. Husk was the very image of exhausted annoyance as he waved the fussing off.

“Oh dear,” Rosie tutted, “Husk, are you quite well?”

The cat demon blinked wearily up at her, and it took a moment before he seemed to gather the wherewithal to reply. “M’fine. Just… Just really tired all of a sudden. Fu- Uh.. The guy about scared me out of my skin.” He finally deigned to allow the shadow to pull him to his feet as Alastor stood. 

The cat demon’s back was bowed with fatigue, his large wings drooped to brush the ground as he rubbed his face with the back of a large paw. “Shit, I’m beat,” he admitted with a sigh. “Al, you’re gonna have to zap us home. My energy is completely gone after that.” 

The deer demon pulled his husband’s arm over his shoulder immediately. “Rosie my dear, I’m terribly sorry for the abrupt departure, but I believe it prudent to get Husker home immediately. Are you sure you’re not hurt, darling?” 

Husk leaned heavily against Alastor, nodding absently. “Toldja m’fine. Just tired.” He raised his eyes to Rosie’s with a sheepish half-grin. “Sorry ‘bout the mess.” A few red feathers stirred in the air, slowly making their way to the floor from where they’d been shed from the stress.

The Overlord favored him with a toothy smile. “Not at all, dear. Harper will set it right before she closes the shop down this evening. Go get yourself rested up, hm?” In a sterner, lecturing tone, she addressed Alastor. “Don’t let the poor darling over-exert himself. It’s not good for either of them!” Both of her guests vanished a moment later in a flash of Alastor’s greenish magic.

A blink later, Husk found himself slumped into the comfortable purple chair now standing guard in the corner of the bedroom. The thing was sinfully comfortable, who cared what the hell color the damned thing was. Al circled around him, fussing softly as the cat demon got comfortable. Finally, he disappeared into the kitchen for a while, reappearing just as Husk was about to fall asleep. 

“Manger, manger, my dearest! You need to keep up your strength!” he called out as he bustled back into the room, an assortment of Husk’s favored finger foods on a plate and a large glass mug of something sparkling in his right hand. He seated himself on the arm of the chair and placed the plate in the cat demon’s lap, looking very satisfied with himself. 

“I know that ain’t beer,” Husk muttered, plucking up a small sandwich triangle and sniffing it experimentally. He perked up at the aroma and sank his teeth into the offering. Cajun chicken salad wasn’t exactly a traditional Creole dish, but Al’s spin on one of Husk’s own mother’s favorite comfort foods was a welcome treat. 

Alastor nodded as Husk downed his first sandwich and began investigating the small bowl of cherry tomatoes. “Sparkling, non-alcoholic cider, darling. A little fizz, a little flavor, but no alcohol to speak of.” 

Husk nodded absently, already finishing off his second sandwich triangle. He was suddenly ravenous and the prospect of food had made his exhaustion temper off to a vague memory for the moment. Al stole away the plate as soon as it was clear, leaving the cat demon with the frosty mug of cider for company as he retreated to the kitchen. 

Content for the moment, Husk sipped idly at the stuff, letting the gentle fingers of drowsiness begin to caress his mind once more. Alastor reappeared in the doorway, looking bright-eyed with some strange energy that tired Husk just to gaze upon it. 

“What?” he finally asked, earning a barely-stifled squeal in return. 

“You haven’t noticed?” Alastor asked, nearly vibrating with wondrous energy. “You really haven’t noticed?” 

“Noticed WHAT?” Husk demanded, mildly annoyed with this strange new game. Alastor fairly darted across the room to lean over him, grinning madly with brilliant eyes. “Husker my love, look down.” 

Husk’s brow furrowed at the instruction, but he glanced down anyway. With a jolt, he sat upright and nearly spilled his drink all over himself. “FUCK!” he yelped, pressing against the back of the chair with wide eyes. 

There was a small but readily-discernable bulge making an appearance now in his stomach. “When the hell did THAT happen?” he demanded, slowly relaxing again. Experimentally, he pressed a digit at the tiny shape. 

Nope, that was solid. Definitely not a sudden onset of beer gut. Holy shit, this was really happening. 

Alastor sank to his knees in front of the chair, joining Husk in cautiously prodding the shape with gentle hands. “It’s only just started to become obvious, and even at that, probably only because you’re such a slender thing. Extraordinary! It seems we’re on our way, my dearest! I believe the time has come for you to start thinking of names.”

Their eyes met at that, and Husk unexpectedly found himself tearing up. Swallowing roughly, he leaned back again in his chair and leaned his cold mug of cider against his cheek. He was suddenly terrified. Had this greedy desire of his been a huge mistake? What the hell kind of parent would an old drunk gambler like him even make?

“Ah fucking shit. Al, I’m gonna fuck this up. Ya doomed this poor kid, ya know that, right?” 

“Ridiculous!” Alastor snorted with a disdainful scoff. “You’ll be a gloriously loving parent, Husker. And such an adorable one,” he added with a grin, sliding sideways to sit on the floor in front of Husk’s chair. Crossing his arms on Husk’s knees, he stared earnestly up at the anxious cat demon. 

“I have every confidence in us, my darling. We will be fine. All of us. And if we make a small muddle here and there, well who hasn’t? We will adore our small one so very much, it will make up for any missteps along the way.” 

Husk looked up at that, and Alastor’s grin reached his sparkling eyes. Wonder and delight reflected Husk’s face back from their red on red depths. When he was assured of his husband’s full attention, Alastor reached out a hand to caress the side of his furry face. “And you are SO full of love, darling. You astound me. Je t’aime gros.” 

The cat demon wiped a hand across his face at that. “You sappy-ass bastard. Shit, I’m never letting you claim you don’t know how to do romantic gestures or whatever again, you know that? You’d better be ready to go all out on my birthday AND our anniversary.” 

“Husker, I find myself desperately needing a cuddle just now,” Alastor insisted, combing his fingers through the striped fur lining Husk’s cheek and pointedly choosing not to comment on the notion of romance.

“Oh, what the fuck ever,” Husk sighed, pulling himself together. “Knock yourself out.” 

Alastor squealed, half-flopping onto Husk’s lap to snuggle the fuzzy bulge in Husk’s belly adoringly. Unable to parse the tangled mess of Creole-French nonsense that his husband was spouting, Husk rested his drink atop Alastor’s head with a sigh.

“There he is, kid. Your dumbass dad, the fearsome Radio Demon,” he muttered to himself, rolling his eyes. 

Elsewhere in the Pentagram, an assembly of Overlords convened. The Radio Demon had not been invited to the meeting. He was the subject of it. A furious Vox glared at his peers. He was certain now that there was more to the rumors than mere gossip, and he’d come to a disturbing conclusion about what the impossible thing Alastor had accomplished must mean. 

“I’m telling you, Alastor has to be stopped!” He slammed a fist down on the table before him, startling the demons seated on either side. 

“Such drama, Vox.” Valentino shook his head, idly stroking some nameless lap pet of his. “You’ve blown a circuit this time. Waste of my damned time” He stood, dumping the androgynous figure on his knee to the floor. The smaller demon scrambled to follow as Valentino walked out of the meeting, leaving only his scorn and a trail of noxious pink smoke behind him. 

The Media Demon ignored the jab. “We have to act now, if we’re to assure our own survival. Hell exists with a certain order of things. Disrupting that order could invite the wrath of Heaven!” 

“I agree in theory, but do we even know if there is any truth to these… ridiculous rumors?” A ribbon-like demoness made of wires and sawblade-like teeth grimaced.

“Ridiculous? Hysterical is more like it!” a Komodo dragon-like demon grumbled. “Count me out. I’ll give you that Alastor’s a loose cannon, but declaring war on him is not the way to deal with him.” He stood, stalking out the door with a host of other demons in his wake.

The gathering of Overlords rumbled at that, as Vox glowered from where he stood before them. Most of them admitted readily to hearing the rumors, but few seemed willing to entertain the notion that Alastor had managed to do what the stories claimed. The few that did were too afraid of drawing Alastor’s chaotic attention on themselves to be eager for a confrontation with him. This was no way to raise an army.

The screen-faced demon sneered at the prim and proper figure of Rosie, who had not deigned once to speak during the meeting. Instead, the demoness had spent the entire time eyeing his plight with keen interest.

“Surely there is someone here who can testify to the truth,” Vox announced with all the grandeur of a tv judge, waving an arm in the amused demoness’ direction. Time to prompt the dramatic reveal. 

“Someone who has spoken to the Radio Demon about this matter?” When she did not speak, he crossed his arms in expectant annoyance. “Madame Rosie, surely you could shine a light on these proceedings?” 

His use of the title had rankled her, if the stiffening of her shoulders was anything to go by. The other Overlords shifted in anticipation, calling for her to explain what Vox meant. 

“All I can tell you,” Rosie sniffed with a theatrical shrug, “Is that Alastor has claimed to me that he had need of a baby crib, which I was happy to supply to him.” She turned her head slightly in Vox’s direction. “Such a polite young man he is. It’s always a joy to have well-behaved customers in my shop.” Vox glared in response. 

“So, we’re to go to Lucifer over some wild rumors and a strange shopping trip? Preposterous,” muttered one of the spidery figures in the back of the room. “Switch off, won’t you Vox?” 

“I’ve got firsthand testimonials from something like nearly 60 demons who posted about things that Alastor said and did yesterday that support the rumors,” Velvet put in, waving her hellphone with a giggle. “Maybe the odd coffee seller on the street might misconstrue something, but the store employees at two stores besides Miss Rosie’s Emporium were very clear about what they heard. Alastor believes he’s got his pet cat pregnant, at least.” She crossed her arms with a smirk in Vox’s direction.

Rosie let out a lilting laugh that echoed in the desolate meeting hall. “May I remind you, dear, both Alastor and his significant other are both male and mortal-borns.” 

Velvet shrugged and gave the elder demoness a sugar-sweet smirk. “Doesn’t change what Alastor said or did yesterday.” 

“And if the likes of the Radio Demon has found a way to subvert the natural order of things, we must act!” Vox put in with a fervent nod. “If he has found a way to create demon spawn of his own, he could raise an army and conquer all of Hell! He could overthrow us all!” 

Several of the Overlords murmured uneasily at that, and Vox let himself revel in the minor victory. 

“We shouldn’t act hastily,” one of the elder demons mused, his voice a dying fire’s crackle. “We should first discern if there is truly substance to these tales. The Radio Demon could be baiting us with such an outlandish tale, hoping to make us look foolish before the whole of the Pentagram!” 

“If there is truth to these rumors, this is beyond our level to deal with,” an ochre-hued robotic demoness bit out. Her long wire-like hair bristled as the Media Demon glared at her. “This is blasphemy fit only for Lucifer himself to deal with! And certainly if there is, he shall! I will have no part in this revolution of yours.” A few more demons stood at that, following the android demoness out of the room. 

“This is your responsibility, Vox. Bring us proof of your suspicions by this time tomorrow!” called out a shrill siren demon from her seat. “If you want our support, then show those of us who haven’t already dismissed this nonsense some evidence!” 

“The end of the day? Tomorrow? Why so soon?!” the media demon demanded, aghast. Getting access to Alastor’s pet wasn’t going to be easy. Especially after the unintended bungle at the smirking Rosie’s store. 

“Because I grow weary of your static and your voice!” sneered the siren. “And because we ALL grow tired of your pointless rivalry with Alastor! Prove yourself immediately or I’ll tear you apart myself!” 

Other voices joined the rally, and Vox bowed out of the assembly with a grimace. Velvet trailed after him, her silver irises aglow with mischief. 

“So all we gotta do is catch the kitty,” she giggled. “You handle getting ready for Alastor. I’ll get you his pet!”


	4. Misdirection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Husk was right. A little misdirection goes a long way when you’re trying to outwit someone. Unfortunately, it was the boys who were outwitted.

It was nearly noon by the time Husk roused from his sleep the next day. A tangled mess of feathers and limbs under the sheets, he grumbled to himself as he stretched the fatigue from his spine and unfurled his cramped wings with a groan of effort. 

His head was unusually clear for first thing in the morning, he noted with a confused yawn. Usually he had at least a little bit of a headache ticking up from whatever his nightcap had been the night before. Wait. His eyes widened as the memory hit him full-force. 

Cider. 

Alastor. 

Pregnant. 

“Oh, SHIT!” he yelped, thrashing his way free of the entangled bedclothes to fall into the floor with a thump. He glared at the ceiling for a moment in pure aggravation. “Goddamn it, what a way to start the day.” 

“Good morning, my sweet! My darling! My-“ 

“Can it, jackass,” Husk growled as he turned his embarrassed gaze to his grinning husband. Alastor practically had hearts and his eyes and sparkling little twinkles of magic hovering around his face as he beamed down at the cat demon. “Don’t give me that look!” Husk snapped, ears burning. He pushed his way upright to recover what little dignity he had left. 

“But you’re positively GLOWING!” Alastor cooed, earning himself a light smack to the shin. 

“I look and feel like I swallowed a beach ball,” Husk growled back as he got to his feet. “And my center of gravity has gone to shit. Fuck Al, we’d better know what we’re doing.” 

So saying, the winged cat slouched his way through the living room and into the kitchen, doing his level best to ignore the deer demon bustling about behind him, humming sweet nothings as if he expected Husk to start depending on them to exist. 

After pouring a cup of coffee, Husk seated himself at the table, frowning as he had to pull his chair out further than normal. Goddamn baby gut was bigger than it had been last night, which was to be expected but was also freaky as hell. He stared at the larger white expanse of fur below his waist with trepidation. 

He didn’t regret this decision, but he was still chock full of anxiety now that the evidence of his decision was becoming so apparent. It was the weirdest thing that had ever happened to him, and the sensations were giving him the crawling heebie-jeebies. Still, goddamned miracles didn’t fall into your lap every damned day. Husk wanted that damned miracle, but... 

He shivered at the alien feeling of his own furry skin. It felt strange and wrong. He was seeing it through, though, no matter what. This wasn’t what he’d had in mind, but it was what he got, and he wasn’t giving it up. It was just two more days. He could handle feeling itchy in his bones for that long.

He sipped slowly on his coffee as he racked his brain for any scraps of information he could recall about pregnancy from his time alive. He’d honestly never paid much attention to such talk, and now he found himself wishing he’d listened to his mother’s rare comments on the subject. Hm, and that was another thought. His mother. She was going to be a grandma, wherever the shit she was. 

Husk took another long, contemplative slurp of his coffee as he digested that thought. He’d never run into his Ma down here, and he hoped that meant that she’d gone upstairs when she’d kicked off. Neither he or Al had never quite said anything about it outright, but they both held the same burning hope in their damned, warped hearts for their mothers. Haloes. Puffy clouds. All the stupidly positive stuff that went with the idea of what Heaven was supposed to be.

What would his Ma would think, if she could see him now? Not just a giant cat monster, but a mutant pregnant giant cat monster who was currently violating every law of the so-called divine plan. 

Maybe she would be horrified by him? Then again, maybe she would shake her head with an exasperated sigh and ask “What have you done to yourself this time?” like when he was a kid coming home from a brawl in the alley behind the casino, nose bloodied and clothing torn. 

Behind him, Alastor bustled into the kitchen, a running commentary churning onwards from him about his observations on Husk’s condition, his thought process on how their progress was charting, his concerns about ensuring everything was on track, and on and on. Al paused behind Husk’s chair and reached out to scratch gently behind Husk’s left ear, just above the base of his skull. Husk leaned into the contact, eyes almost fluttering shut again at the comforting sensation. 

Encouraged, Al leaned forward, resting his forehead against the top of Husk’s head. A deep, rumbling purr began to thrum at the back of Husk’s throat. The next moment, Alastor was leaning over to reach for Husk’s more rotund middle. Nope, that was where Husk drew the line this morning. He was already self-conscious about his freakish appearance, cuddle session of the night before be damned. The purring ended and Husk swatted the questing hand away with a grumble. “I ain’t giving out free passes to grope my gut. Plus I’m tired as shit, and this ain’t helping keep me awake.”

Alastor tutted a bit, turning to the refrigerator with purpose. “Well I am sorry you didn’t sleep well, my dearest love, but I do need to check you over. Would some breakfast make it better?” 

Husk’s ears perked, and he let himself nod slowly. “You’re finally talking my language this morning, Al.” 

With a satisfied smirk, Alastor began pulling his ingredients out of the icebox and cabinets. The oven seemed to already be on, and a strangely sweet aroma was wafting from it. Al set to work mixing some sort of batter as the pan warmed. A slow big band tune began playing at a low volume as he worked, and Husk felt himself relaxing into his chair as he watched the deer demon work. 

It was easy to forget, when he got to see this dementedly domestic side of Al every day, that he had once been as scared shitless of the guy as most of Hell still was. 

It helped immensely that Al wasn’t devouring their fellow damned as much these days as he once had. Thankfully, that habit seemed to have either fallen into being a rarer occurrence, or else Al was much more discreet about it now that they were living together. Goodness knew Husk made a conscious effort not to scrutinize any meats in the refrigerator closely, just in case. 

“Any particular cravings you’d like me to indulge?” Alastor asked, breaking Husk’s concentration to wave a hand at the kitchen table. While the cat demon had been daydreaming, most of the contents of the kitchen had been transported to the surface. Husk blinked in confusion at the plethora of food items. 

“The hell is all this?” he finally managed to ask. 

“I’m attempting some extra consideration in light of your… condition,” Al said with a shrug. “I’ve heard tales that pregnant women would, at times, have intense and bizarre food cravings. Any you’d like to experiment with, Husker-dear?” 

Oh great, so Al had decided Husk was going to ask for fucking peanut butter and pickle omelettes, and decided to head him off at the gastronomical abomination pass. Wonderful. Husk let his eyes run over the offerings with a hesitant sense of dawning astonishment. 

Knowing what a snob the Radio Demon was about his food, the very notion that he was willing to sacrifice his standards was… Fuck, was it heartwarming or was that actual heartburn at the thought of peanut butter and pickle omelettes? Either way, he was relieved to discover that the notion of strange food combinations was only turning his stomach, rather than whetting his appetite. 

“Nothin’ weird,” he gruffly informed his husband, quashing the evil urge to ask for something stupid just to see the guy squirm in revulsion. “Just make whatever you’d normally be inclined to, Al. Ya know I ain’t picky when it comes to food _you_ make.” The compliment seemed to stroke a glow of genuine delight over the deer demon. Husk noted with no small sense of pride that Al’s eyes gleamed with warm strawberry fire at the comment. It was warm and sweet, and burned to look at too closely. The sight had the tip of Husk’s own tail flicking giddily in a tell that would have been a death sentence in poker, even though the rest of him was still and composed. 

With a wave of the Radio Demon’s hand, the majority of the food vanished back to where it had come from. Alastor turned back to his pan and began cracking some eggs one-handed as he reached for the milk. 

Al was really giving his all, and that was saying something when you considered that food was one of the guy’s biggest ways he expressed his emotions to people. Food wasn’t just food when it came from Al’s kitchen. It was his warmth, his devotion, and even his love. It had taken Husk a regrettably long time to catch on to the fact, considering how obvious it was when you took the time to look. 

A short time later, Alastor swept something out of the oven. A hiss and whistle at the temperature of the mystery dish was the prelude to Al presenting Husk with a plate. It was bacon, of some sort. Husk squinted at the stuff as he waited for it to cool. The smell was interesting; something cloyingly sweet hovered at the edges, teasing Husk’s nose. A cautious examination of one piece only deepened the mystery, and Husk squinted at the brownish stuff on and around the bacon before shrugging and shoving a portion in his mouth. 

Oh. 

Oh god.

Alastor was laughing at him when his senses returned, faded vision revealing the deer demon leaning heavily on the table and letting out a diabolical cackle that almost left him breathless with mirth. Dimly aware that he’d somehow managed to unconsciously swallow without choking, Husk set the remainder of the food down in a dizzy sort of euphoria. 

“The FUCK,” he managed to gasp out, “was THAT!?” 

“Oh, my darling,” Alastor finally managed to sputter out as he slid bonelessly into his chair. “If I’d known you’d react to praline bacon like that, I’d have fed it to you years ago! Ha! Perhaps even for our first meal together!” 

“Fucking magic goddamned food wizard”, Husk griped, snatching up his fork again as he regained his bearings. “If you’d done that, I would have just proposed to you then and there! And THEN where the hell would we be, huh?!” So saying, he grabbed another piece of the reason Gluttony was in the Deadly Seven and shoved it into his mouth as Alastor hummed at the thought. 

Fucking pecan praline-encrusted bacon! No wonder Al was in Hell, making shit this fucking sinful. Heaven was probably putting a hit out on the both of them right now, just because of this shit existing. 

Alastor’s giggling faded at last as Husk ignored the amusement in favor of stuffing his face as quickly as possible. “Whenever you’re done,” Alastor mused, “I really should examine you. While I am reasonably confident that everything should be progressing on track with no issues, this is a highly experimental process. I would also like to take some notes, for future reference.” 

Husk paused, licking a glob of praline from one of his long talons. “Future reference?” 

“Well of course!” Alastor replied with a beaming smile. “The more data we can collect from the initial pass, the more we’ll know for the next time-!” 

“First off, bold as fuck for you to think there’s gonna BE a next time!” Husk scoffed, pointing the business end of his fork in the startled deer demon’s direction. “Second, hell no there’s not going to be one.” 

Alastor’s grin fell to a startled, thin line. “You did say you wanted *children*, darling. I am certain that I didn’t mishear.” 

“I’m done carrying them!” Husk growled at his husband. At Alastor’s chagrined expression Husk’s irritation faded. He massaged the bridge of his nose with a groan. “Look, Al. Three days or no, so far the whole process has been a pain in my ass. And my gut. And a lot of other places. Hell, who knows? I might not even like THIS kid,” he added in a disgruntled mutter. “Fine thing that would be for the brat.” 

His stomach did a weird, grumbly burble at that, causing him to flinch in discomfort. Hell, maybe it was his stomach, everything was all… mooshed around weird down there. 

Alastor stood at that, pacing over to kneel in front of Husk’s chair. Affixing the cat demon with a serious, shockingly smile-free expression, he reached out and took both of Husk’s large paws in his hands. “Mon cheri, stop speaking nonsense. You’ll adore our small one. In fact, I’m fairly certain you already do.” 

Husk looked away with a fretful expression. “I do, and I’m never going to get over the fact that you did this for me, Al. I can’t even really come to terms with it being real. But- but this is all happening so fast. Fast doesn’t always favor the odds with me, ya know? I’m a long game kind of player.” 

“You will be fine,” Alastor insisted, placing a soft kiss on the heart-shaped pad on each of the paws in his palms. “We will all be just fine. Now, let’s take a look at you, hm Maman?” 

Husk’s expression went from cautiously warmed to freezing. “Ugh. Look, Al. There’s no way I’m going to let the kid call me Mama,” Husk complained, doing his best to stifle the flustered blush creeping into his face. “That’s just wrong.” 

“Well of course, you’re Maman!” Alastor huffed as he stood and pulled Husk to his feet. “You’re the one who is bearing our little one! It’s only natural, Husker!” As Al conjured up his black notebook and a pencil, Husk crossed his arms with an unimpressed snort. 

“As if any part of what’s happening here is natural,” Husk retorted automatically, even as he allowed himself to be poked and prodded while Al made notations in his book about whatever it was he was looking for. After a few minutes of squinted observations and a few questions, Alastor suddenly seated himself in the floor right in front of Husk, leaning one large ear against his stomach. 

“Has the small one kicked yet?” Alastor asked, pencil hovering over the page expectantly as Husk rested his fists on his hips. 

“Not that I’ve- Okay shit, was that it?” Husk interrupted himself at the weird, fluttery feeling in his gut. “Alright, that’s not okay, kid. That was my fucking bladder and now I gotta piss!” 

“One moment, one moment!” Al pleaded as he wrote furiously in his notebook. After a few seconds, Husk was shifting his weight and beginning to fret. “You done yet, jackass?” he demanded with a huff. 

“Hmm… nope. Just a moment more,” Al muttered, distracted. 

Husk backed away with a growl, turning his sights towards the closest bathroom. “Fuck it, this is do or die. Write a novel on your own damn time, Al!” As he shut the door, Alastor could hear him continue his tirade. “You and me are gonna have words over this shit later, kid. Angry, angry words!” 

“I wasn’t finished!” Alastor shouted after him, struggling to keep the snicker out of his voice. 

His mirth was cut short as his microphone cane appeared before him with a brisk comment of “Call for ya, boss!” Alastor reached to take hold of the sentient weapon with a perplexed hum. Rosie’s voice immediately rang out in his ears. 

“Alastor, I’m afraid I must skip the pleasantries. Do you know where Husk is?” 

“Rosie! What an unexpected delight!” Alastor laughed, grinning pleasantly at the familiar voice. “Yes, he’s preoccupied at the moment, but he’s here.” 

The demoness gave a soft sigh at that. “I need to speak to you both, urgently. There was a meeting in the late hours of last night. The rest of the Overlords have found out that Husk and yourself are… expecting. Vox is quite adamant that something should be done, and for all his bluster and foolhardiness, he is no one to underestimate.” 

Alastor’s genial smile fell into a muted sneer as he replied. “Vox would not dare cross me, Rosie my dear. And should he be so stupid as to make the attempt, I’ll shred him down to the electrons.” Behind him, his shadow leered to life on the wall. 

“He’s going to do something, Alastor. We all know you’re formidable, but you’re not omniscient. I believe you should take this just a bit more seriously.” 

The Radio Demon’s temper flared at that, and his form became scratchy with static as he growled into the microphone’s range. “If you were anyone else, I would take GRAVE offense at being told I don’t take Husker’s safety seriously, my dear. Should anyone dare to make an attempt upon him, it will be the last day they spend in Hell.” 

“Al? What the fuck are you carrying on about out here?” 

Alastor froze in place for a moment, caught in the searchlights of Husk’s baffled scrutiny. The cat demon peered into the room from the kitchen doorway. Alastor took a deep breath, steeling himself and letting it out slowly as he regained his composure. Just as he was about to respond, Rosie spoke up instead. 

“Hello Husk. I was calling to let Alastor know that the news of your condition has reached the other Overlords. Far be it for me to question Alastor’s devotion to your safety, but Vox’s preoccupation with the situation does not bode well for any of you.” 

The cat demon’s ears wilted a bit as he walked back into the kitchen. His posture was hunched and wary as he returned to his seat. “Ah, shit. Yeah, this could be bad.” 

Alastor felt a distinct sting at the trepidation in Husk’s voice. “Husker, surely you know I will keep you safe? Both of you?” he pleaded, uncaring for the moment that they had an audience. 

Husk’s eyes looked haunted as he raised his gaze to meet the Radio Demon’s eyes. “I know you’d try your best, Al. Believe me, I know that. But… But even you can’t be everywhere at once. I mean, we can probably assume the way this is going to work is that asshole plans to make some kind of distraction to separate us, and then swoop in and nab me the instant you’re gone.” The cat shuddered, paws curling around his belly as he wrapped his wings around himself. “An’ if the jackass decides you ain’t biting at his bait, he’ll probably just try to show up anyway, knowing that you can’t cut loose with me in the crossfire. Shit, Al. This is bad.” 

“I agree with this assessment of the situation at hand,” Rosie’s voice tutted. “It’s not a slight against you, Alastor my dear boy. It’s just quite simply the fact of the matter that we cannot take this situation lightly. To do otherwise is to thumb our collective noses at disaster.” 

Husk trembled at the notion, empty-eyed and huddled in on himself. Some private terror pulled at the cat-demons face. The deer demon wilted at the sight. 

“What would... What would even happen to them?” Husk whimpered to himself, reaching to grab his own wings and pull them tighter around his shoulders like a blanket. He looked up, meeting Alastor’s eyes with a horrified stare. “Al? What would happen to them? If Vox kills me, does the kid die? Fuck, are they… alive, or… dead or… whatever we are that we revive when we’re killed?”

Releasing his wings, he darted over to grab at Alastor’s arms, expression desperate and searching. “Al?! Al, does the kid die for good if I croak while they’re in me?!” 

Alastor stumbled backwards into the kitchen table under the assault, reaching for Husker’s shaking hands with his own. “Rosie,” he finally managed to sputter out. “If you’d be a darling and give us just a few moments to collect ourselves?” 

“Of course, Alastor. Call me.” 

With that, the microphone went silent, and Alastor set it aside with a trembling sigh. “Husker, let’s take a moment to calm down.” For once, the cat demon didn’t object to the dismissal. He leaned heavily into Alastor’s arms for several minutes, sides heaving with terror. Alastor let his hands run over his husband’s large ears and thin shoulders, and tried to relax. 

“Al, I’m scared,” Husk finally confessed in a whimper. “I’m scared of all this, but one of the fucking overlords being after me? I’m really fucking scared, okay? And… And what about the kid?” 

“I don’t know, my darling,” Alastor sighed into Husk’s soft feathers. “In my experimentation, I never had the urge to find out. That would have required… well, live specimens. I only ever tested on blood and the ability to tie it together into something that could become viable in the right environment. I would like to say that I am completely confident that the child would recover with you. The blood seal is very strong, but I must admit that I do have some small doubts over the notion.” 

“S-Shit,” Husk sputtered out, sagging against his husband with a shiver. “I don’t know whether to be glad ya weren’t doing this shit to other demons or mad that I’m the guinea pig.” 

“I would never have made the attempt without the utmost certainty that it would work and not be harmful to you, mon cheri,” Alastor scoffed, planting a gentle kiss between the two heart-shaped marks on Husk’s forehead. “And this was my precious gift to you. I would not belittle it by just… bestowing it upon the common rabble. This is ours, and I’ve already had to make too many concessions to attain it.” He leaned down to follow that with an additional kiss on Husker’s nose, making the other grumble good-naturedly. 

The two of them sat that way for a moment longer before Alastor raised his microphone once more. “Rosie, my dear? Are you there?” There was only a momentary pause before the affirmation reached them. 

“Yes, I’m with you. Is everything alright? Do you need me in person?” 

Husk dropped himself into his seat once more, a serious expression on his face. “Bring her in, Al. If she’s getting involved at least have the decency to do this face to face.” His long tail twitched as Alastor relayed the message, mere seconds before the demoness appeared in their midst. 

“Do forgive me for bypassing the front door,” Rosie sighed, patting at her hair as Alastor conjured up a seat for her at the table, magically stirring the dishes still cooking on the stove at the same time. “I thought it prudent to be as discreet as possible and well... one never knows who could be watching.” She delicately seated herself and accepted a cup of aromatic tea from Alastor’s shadow. “Are we assuming that ‘divide and conquer’ is going to be Vox’s plan moving forward?” 

Alastor conjured two cups of coffee and seated himself next to Husk. “That’s the plan for the moment. I believe we should simply fortify ourselves in place. To the best of my knowledge, Vox has no idea of where our home is. It would be the height of foolishness to attempt to move us at this point.” 

“We need a backup plan,” Husk muttered into his mug, “for when this whole thing goes to shit.” At Alastor’s near-frown, the cat demon straightened. “For whatever reason, Vox has a bug up his ass about this whole thing, right?” 

“The other Overlords have told him to produce you in person as evidence today, or be torn apart by them for wasting their time,” Rosie murmured, her eyeless gaze locked with Husk’s own. “He won’t be taking this lightly.” 

Husk bit out a faint curse at that, and Alastor’s eyes shaded over with crimson fury. 

“So it’s like that,” Husk sighed, rotating his mug on the table surface. A dull roar of static began to creep into the air, and Alastor’s heavily-distorted voice seemed to echo from every surface in the room. 

“I’LL KILL HIM. IF HE TOUCHES YOU, I WILL KILL HIM. IF HE SHOWS HIS FACE, **I WILL KILL HIM.** ” 

Husk didn’t look up, merely reaching over to pat one of the hands tearing gouges into the kitchen table. “Easy there, Al. We gotta be smart about this. I agree that shelter in place is a good start, but we need an idea for what to do if he does show up. Hell, he’s going to be going all out since it’s his neck on the line. He’s bound to have a whole team if he shows. We need a panic room and exits. Contingency plans.” 

The cat demon glared down at his claws. “The way I see it, it ain’t a matter of IF this whole thing goes sideways, it’s WHEN. An’ we don’t have the luxury of time on our side, here. One of his large paw-like hands dropped from the table to rest on his midsection. “We gotta be able to stay one step ahead of ‘em for a day. That’s doable, if we’re smart.” Beside him, Alastor’s teeth ground back and forth in a menacing grin. The static noises crackled from all around them. 

“If I could make a suggestion,” Rosie put in, “What about exit gates? Set up a series of them that only you can trigger? Perhaps a power word to activate them, or even a passive charm? Then as soon as you find yourself discovered; you simply flee to the next location?” She turned to face Alastor as she spoke, setting her cup down on the table and folding her hands in her lap. “Something to do with doors, perhaps?” 

Alastor seemed to rouse from his murderous musings at that, blinking to dispel the flickering interference that clouded his vision. “The idea has merit,” he admitted slowly, his grin turning more cautious and thoughtful. “The question is, what would be our series of safe zones?” 

“Maybe it’s better if it’s something I can direct,” Husk put in, clinking his claws on the edges of his cooling mug. “Like I concentrate on a place, and the door goes there. If I’m the only one who knows where I’m going, there’s less chance of somebody popping up when I get there.” 

Alastor’s head snapped around at that, eyes wide in disbelief. “Husker my dear, you speak as if you believe we are going to be separated during this hypothetical jaunt.” 

The cat demon nodded slowly. “I think we might as well plan for it to be inevitable. Hell, we might even buy ourselves some extra time if we split up.” He picked up his mug and a cloth napkin, proceeding to pour the cold coffee into the fabric fisted in his other hand. With a snap of his wrist, he held up the dry and pristine material. “A little misdirection can go a long way.” 

Alastor’s smile fell into a shallow line. “I don’t like it, Husker. I suppose that you have made your point, however. Give me just a moment, and I’ll prepare something for you to use. Do watch the stove, won’t you?” So saying, the Radio Demon rose from the table and paced for his study, leaving Husk and Rosie to their own devices. After a moment, the demoness shifted, turning to face the cat demon once more. 

“There’s no tactful way of saying that I notice a difference since yesterday, so I suppose I’ll simply ask how you’re feeling, Husk.” 

The other snorted in reply and toyed with his empty coffee mug for a moment before reaching for Alastor’s abandoned cup. “Like an overstuffed sausage,” he muttered. “I think my insides are going to start squeezing out my ears if this keeps up,” he flashed a weary grin at the giggle he got in return. “If we can just get through two more days, we’re home free. Then this kid gets out of me and quits using my bladder for a soccer ball.” 

He winced suddenly. “Son of a bitch, the little shit can hear me and is obstinate as Al.” 

Rosie’s titter grew louder at that, and she actually favored him with a fond smile afterwards. “They’re deucedly inconsiderate little monsters at times. I do hope you two are prepared.” 

“I don’t know how prepared a person could be for something like this,” Husk stood and gestured vaguely at his rounded middle. “It ain’t exactly something that they made us watch ed films about in school.” Rosie tittered in reply. With a shake of his head, he tipped back the last of Alastor’s coffee before turning the eggs in their pan. “Not surprising that Vox is throwing a fit, but why do the rest of that lot give a shit about all this?” 

Rosie hummed for a moment, gathering her thoughts. “Well, as you say, it’s a shocking thing. Vox is attempting to rally them against Alastor with the notion that he intends to breed himself an army.” 

“Oh, FUCK every PART of that!” Husk spat, slamming the empty mug into the sink. “Shortened time like this or no, I ain’t doing this again. It’s not fun enough to merit that!” 

The demoness startled a little at the vehement reply, then smiled. “I seem to recall my grandmother saying that when it came to babies, the first could come anytime, but the second always took nine months.” The twist of her lips turned a bit mischievous. “But then again, she also said that killing your husband was the easiest form of what the youngsters today call birth control.” 

“No need for that. I’m not signing up for this shit again. If Al gets the bright idea to try and talk me around to it, he’s going to end up dead, alright.” Husk agreed with a scoff. “And in the week he’s out of commission, I’m going to dye him green. Bright fucking lime goddamn green. Like a fir tree or something.” 

Rosie’s expression had fallen into something serious at the threat to end Alastor’s afterlife, but then she let out a soft hiccup of a laugh at the image. “Oh dear, Alastor in green.” 

“Merry fucking Christmas,” Husk grinned, earning an actual laugh out loud from his companion. She gave him a look that was almost fond. 

“Why have we never gotten along, Husk-dear?” 

“Because we both know I ain’t nearly good enough for Al, and you’re a judgy bitch about it.” 

“Hm, I would like to object, but I suppose that would make a liar of me.” She toyed with her coffee, this time with a gentler smile. “However, I think I will endeavor to be just a bit less… judgy, as you say.” 

“What, still a bitch, though?” Husk retorted; teeth bared in a brazen grin. 

“One must do what one must,” the demoness sighed theatrically, this time gaining a laugh out loud from the cat demon. The food on the stove hissed, beginning to scorch. 

The warmth and comraderie that filled the room was dissipated with the shockwave of the blast that rocked the house, taking a corner of the next room with it. Snaking, colorful tendrils of something alien poured in through the hole, ripping open the living room and pulling open the shaking walls of the house. Multiple bright lights that hissed and warped as they encountered Alastor’s shadow magic. Smoke began to rise from one of the pans.

“Motherfucker!” Husk shouted as the ceiling partially collapsed onto the kitchen, grabbing Rosie and yanking her beneath the kitchen table. A grease fire erupted on the stove, and the curtains caught quickly after. Rosie’s shadowy eyes flickered with fury, and she latched on to Husk’s arm with purpose. 

“I’m moving us!” she announced as the unearthly howl of Alastor’s shadow-servant erupted in the living room. The flash of brilliant crimson behind it could only be Alastor himself. 

“AL!” Husk shouted as the kitchen snapped sideways and he and Rosie were deposited in the floor of her home. “Shit,” the cat demon coughed, “We gotta get back before-!” 

Something yanked him upwards by the throat, and he tore at the vicelike grip crushing his windpipe even as his wings helplessly flailed in midair. Spots swam in his vision as the thick cords wrapping around his neck spiraled out to entrap the rest of his limbs. Husk found himself immobilized, trussed up like an insect caught in a spider’s web. His struggles grew weaker, and his vision swam. Dimly, he could hear Vox’s voice laughing as Rosie shouted something that sounded urgent. 

“—KILLING THEM! VOX-!” 

Then Husk’s eyes rolled and he knew no more.


	5. Let Them Eat Cake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Husk is missing. Alastor is lost. All according to Vox’s plan. 
> 
> Plans have ways of coming unraveled, though. Reminder: tags/warns have updated

Husk awakened to agony. His throat burned as if he had been abusing his voice, and something was jabbing relentlessly into his abdomen. He blearily tried to sort out the conflicting signals of discomfort thundering into every synapse of his brain. What the shit had happened to him? Dimly he registered that the baby was active, and kicking repeatedly at the insistent crushing sensation against his gut. 

The cat demon let out a plaintive, abbreviated sound of pain as the many cords holding him in place constricted, pulling him tighter against the hard surface below him. 

“So, it IS true?” a voice Husk didn’t recognize muttered, and the pressure on this stomach abated. “Alastor really has done it.” 

“Look at the size of the thing,” a new voice hissed, “The news just broke yesterday! This is beyond what the photos showed! What sort of monstrous creature is the Radio Demon creating?” 

“And with this… thing,” yet another put in, the insult sliding right past Husk’s preoccupied brain. “Does he believe a more beastial base is going to result in a more powerful creature, or has he used this lesser demon because it will ensure his own power and influence will dominate his creation?” 

Something pressed against Husk’s stomach again, none too gently. The baby kicked at the pressure with a vengeance as Husk weakly struggled against his bindings. His eyes watered at the bright light in his face as the grinning, illuminated face of Vox leered over him. 

“I really must thank you for delivering my prize to me, Rosie. Truly, it was so kind of you to drop Alastor’s little pet project right into my open arms.” He straightened, pulling his hand away from Husk as if he’d touched something distasteful. 

Rosie’s voice sputtered something in outrage from beyond Husk’s line of vision. The television-faced demon looked away from Husk to sneer in what was presumably her direction. The bright gleam of holy metal flashed in warning in the periphery of Husk’s perception. Shit, they were all well and truly screwed. 

Vox chuckled at the sight of whatever was happening, his ominous smile stretched wide across his screen. “You all did just as we thought you would. Alastor let his trusted confidante into his home, guiding us right to his hiding place. He let his guard down as you all planned your futile efforts. And then, as soon as you came under attack, you my dear took the initiative to flee back here with his precious little experiment in hand.” 

He chuckled as he turned his gaze back to Husk. “It was almost _too_ easy.” 

Husk flinched at the hand that reached out to grab his face. Caught in a fucking shell game like a bunch of rubes on their first night in Vegas. If he had the energy, he’d be ashamed of them all right now. As it was, keeping his tenuous grip on consciousness was the limit of his abilities at present. 

“Release us immediately,” Rosie bit back at the grinning television demon. “And perhaps Alastor and I will leave enough of you behind that you can reconstitute yourself, Vox. It will be a long, painful process, but you would at least survive it.” 

“Oh, shut up, you noisy shrew,” Vox scoffed, “or I’ll be glad to accelerate your own demise and save Lucifer the trouble of eliminating you himself. It’s too bad about Velvet, but sacrifices are necessary to preserve the status quo. It would have been so satisfying to see you go like dear Miss Harper. She was so kind to give us the ability to track your visit to Alastor. Alas, the poor girl didn’t have much of a... _taste_ for the true cost of ensuring the greater good. It was truly a pity.” 

The venomous outburst that came from Rosie at that only left Husk more confused. Who the hell were they talking about, and why was Rosie so pissed about it? The name was familiar. He let his head loll away from the raised voices, hoping for something less unsettling to focus on. There was something next to him on the table. The sight was nonsensical, a visual jumble that defied his overwrought brain’s best attempts at parsing it. Was... that a cake?

No... it was... a demon?

The image seemed to shift into focus, and a scream burst from Husk’s abused throat. It was a cake. It was a demon. It was both. The figure of Rosie’s assistant was lying next to him, her head thrown back in a silent shriek of horror that rang in Husk’s ears. There was nothing left of the blonde squirrel-like demoness from the waist down. 

A large serving knife protruded from her chest, a hallmark of a certain sugar-obsessed female Overlord. The interior of Harper’s torso was exposed, revealing the transformation of her remains into an elaborately decorated layer cake. Husk shuddered at the sight. The cloyingly sweet smells of raspberry filling and cream cheese were teasing his nose, still nearly mouthwatering as they registered to his horrified awareness.

Holy fucking shit, this was Velvet’s work and he had a front row seat to it. The bright red filling between the cake layers was seeping steadily from the transformed body like a steady flow of sugary, fruit-flavored blood. Fuck, it _had_ been blood, hadn’t it? Husk gagged, turning his head away from the sight. Rosie was shouting something, but the words slipped past Husk’s ears like wind through leaves. He could get impressions of what was being said, but the exact phrases eluded him. 

The sight of several of Vox’s audience sharing large helpings of a very familiar dessert made Husk’s gorge threaten to rise again. Had Vox meant it when he implied the sugar witch was dead? Good fucking riddance, Husk was not going to die as a pastry!

“My friends, those of you who agreed to come to this meeting; you all know what must be done,” Vox announced grandly as he stepped up onto the table that Husk was bound to. “Too long have we been made to tolerate that outmoded fool and his nonsense! We must take our case to Lucifer, and demand that he crushes Alastor like the insect he is! An example must be made of him and remind his ilk of their place!” Husk let out a startled wheeze as the television demon’s foot planted itself atop the cat demon’s belly with emphasis. 

A few scattered mutters of agreement came from around the room. After a pause, it became apparent that there were a few complaints of dissent coming from the back. “What, too afraid to challenge the Radio Demon yourself, Vox?” One of the objectors jeered. The demon looked like a large, metallic albatross. “This is your big chance to show us all that you’re his superior. And here you’re wanting to go to Lucifer himself? Ha, how pathetic.” 

Vox chuckled darkly as the bird demon spoke. One hand reached into his jacket, and Husk’s eyes focused on the motion. It was a feint, misdirection. The hand wasn’t reaching into the Overlord’s coat, it was pulling something from the Otherspace that high-level demons had access to. Sure enough, a gleaming weapon had appeared in Vox’s grip when he faced his detractors again. A glowing short sword, alight with the telltale sheen of holy metal.

Vox spun, launching the blade towards the robotic demon that had been speaking. A sickly gurgle came from the struck Overlord, who was immediately seized and ripped apart by his fellows. The gleaming magic weapon flashed, tugged back and forth by Vox’s cables in the confusion, and the few attendees who’d not been in favor of the motion found themselves set upon. The smell of fresh ichor and blood threatened to overwhelm the heavy dessert aromas in the air.

The Media Demon gestured grandly, catching his blade and returning it to his hold as the crowd’s energy picked up, solidifying in his favor. “The Radio Demon has been allowed free reign to wreak havoc in our territories for far too long!” A few more cheering voices joined the rabble. “And now, Alastor has begun experimenting to creating… abominations that he will use to threaten our power, directly! Alastor has defied the natural order of Hell. Has begun to create an army of hellspawn that he surely intends to set upon us. Perhaps he even believes he can overwhelm Lord Lucifer, himself. No, we cannot allow this!” 

“Those who did not come to join us, and those who refused to stand with us are traitors, and we will purge the rest of them from Hell as well! Just as soon as Lucifer grants us his blessing, we shall reap the profits of their holdings!” The other voices in the room raised in a cheer. 

“Idiots!” Rosie shouted to be heard over the mob. “You’re all idiots, and I’ll see you all erased!” 

Vox’s foot left Husk’s gut at that, and the Media Demon dropped back down to the floor. “Rosie my dear, I’m afraid you’ve outlived your middling amount of usefulness.” He gestured grandly and the demoness let out a surprised cry. The gleaming angel weapon was being passed forward. 

Husk took a deep breath. “C-coward,” he sputtered out, and the room abruptly fell silent. 

For a moment, he thought he had spoken too late. The silence was deafening. At last, a staccato gasp from the still-unseen Rosie reassured him that she was still alive. Vox loomed back into Husk’s vision, sneering in disbelief. 

“What did you say, vermin?” 

“Said yer a… A fuckin’ COWARD!” Husk spat, glaring up at the furious Vox. “Ya talk all big now, with yer… Yer prisoners an’ no opposition. Can’t even take a chance on a low-level demon like… ME not being strapped down like this though, can ya?” 

Husk was struggling for breath now. Whether by intention or by pure emotion, the cables holding him down were constricting again. It was getting harder and harder to inhale for every word he spoke. 

“Careful, Vox,” one of the other voices muttered. “Don’t destroy the evidence before we have a chance to present it.” 

The television-faced demon straightened; a sneer of profound distaste displayed on his screen. “Yes, of course. Let’s hurry up, then. I want to see Alastor’s face when I present him with what’s left of his pet. It will make all of this trouble worthwhile to see the face he makes, right before Lucifer kills him.”

Elsewhere, the Pentagram was rocked by a tremendous explosion. The Radio Demon, teetering at his massive full demonic height of several hundred feet, effortlessly ripped the broadcasting antenna from atop Vox’s transmission tower and flung it into a crowd of cackling shadowy minions. 

Lucifer peered from his throne room balcony with interest at the tremendous territorial riot. It was impressive, the amount of destruction being wrought. He had an excellent view, right from his own throne room. Alastor and Vox were at it again, it seemed. This time was a bit more intense than their usual bouts, but both of the sinners were showmen by nature. It was to be expected that they would be over the top. What a show, what a show! He let out a little excited squeal of appreciation as the spindly form of the deer demon ripped open the tower itself and let out a bloodcurdling, unearthly roar of fury. 

His darling Lilith, home from her latest concert tour, scoffed at his enthusiasm as she flipped idly through a magazine. Ah, it was truly a lovely, lazy day, he thought to himself as he turned to meet the succubus’ gaze. Lil was lounging on the chaise just behind him, her long blonde hair spilling to the floor. The messy bun she’d started the day with had become a distant, comfortable memory. 

“Luci,” she sighed, “it’s going to be a bother if those boys keep making so much noise.” 

With a grin, Lucifer looked back out to enjoy the sight of another explosion blooming from the battlefield. “Well m’darling, that’s gonna be up to Al and Vox, now ain’t it? Ha, look at Alastor go! Whatever Vox has done to get the old boy in a twist must really be something else. The last time I can recollect ole Al this wound up was when...” The amused grin on Lucifer’s face fell into a thoughtful frown. “Oh, surely not. Ol’ Vox can’t be dumb enough to have launched an attack on Alastor directly. Not after the last time.” Lil’s expression became curious at that. 

“Hon?” 

Lucifer’s frown fell further. Oh, not again. Not after the fiasco of the pirate broadcast siege. That mess had started as series of pranks, then had escalated into a reign of terror and bloodshed which had gotten so out of control that it had spilled into the palace directly. He himself had finally been obliged to step in and interfere. He’d been very plain to everyone involved that attempting to instigate that level of disaster again was a one way ticket to pissing him off.

Below, the Radio Demon lowered his face to roar something demanding at the battle going on around his feet. His massive antlers branched wildly, stabbing through the crowd of demons and minions surrounding him. With a toss of his head, the unfortunates were flung nearly to the seal. 

“Oh, for pity’s sake”, Lucifer groaned, tapping his apple-headed cane impatiently. A series of shouts echoed from the hallway outside of the throne room. Oh, that fool box-headed television idiot had done something exceptionally stupid, hadn’t he? As if summoned by the thought, Vox himself shoved his way into the palatial throne room behind the unquestioned lord and master of Hell. An assortment of Lucifer’s own demon employees were flung aside as they attempted to interfere with the entourage escorting the television demon. 

Lilith stood, the motion like smoke flowing lazily upward from an extinguished candle. “What,” she enunciated with brittle, sharp syllables, “Is the meaning of this?” Vox and his companions were clearly not expecting to see the queen of Hell, and stumbled to an awkward halt in the middle of the room as Lucifer slowly paced over to join his wife. 

“Um,” one of the minor overlords beside the television demon ventured hesitantly. The group fidgeted, and Lucifer caught sight of Rosie, one of the higher-level overlords, in the back, sagging on her feet as she was jostled by the others. There was an exceptionally bloodthirsty smile on her face. 

“Now I do believe my darling wife asked you all a question,” Lucifer put in, arms folded behind his back as he tapped his cane against the floor impatiently. “Vox. What exactly are you doing?” 

Vox’s screen flickered with a test pattern for a moment before he collected himself. Behind him, Rosie began to chuckle darkly under her breath. 

Lucifer raised his eyebrows at the lady overlord’s amusement. Oh, this was going to be a right peach of a story, he could tell already. 

Vox finally seemed to get himself together, and launched into a long-winded speech that he had probably been writing in his head since he’d left whatever little hidey-hole he’d been plotting this… whatever it was in. 

Ignoring the blowhard, Lucifer kept his attention on the clearly-amused demoness at the back of the group.  
The lady in question was paler than usual, and her appearance was rather rumpled. Someone as fastidious as the goods dealer was never seen in anything less than immaculate perfection. Turning his attention back to the still-blathering Vox, Lucifer held up a hand. “Stop.” 

Obediently, the television demon fell silent as Lucifer spoke. 

“Now, I confess, I wasn’t paying your little jaunt down ‘Talk Me Senseless Lane” much mind, Vox. And I do apologize that I just can’t seem to get up the enthusiasm for giving whatever pretty little speech you’ve concocted my full attention. But I’d like to try sorting this out, just the same. Let’s start at the beginning, shall we?” 

The fallen angel’s horns erupted from his elongating skull, his eyes darkening and multiple dark wings raising from his back as his body grew in stature and monstrous form. It was part poisonous serpent, part horrific goat-beast, and all rage. The edges of his claws and the talons of his wings gleamed brightly.

“WHAT IN MY FATHER’S NAME DID YOU DO?” Lucifer thundered, sending most of the lot cowering to the floor. A few spontaneously combusted from the pure, unfiltered fury seething off of the infuriated lord of all Hell. 

Only Vox and Rosie remained standing, and the emporium-owner looked positively punch-drunk with sinister delight as she teetered on her feet, tied with multiple black cords and cables. Beside her, a mostly-crumpled shape was similarly bound. The figure, shrouded in red feathered wings, was nearly unconscious as he half-kneeled on the ground. Lucifer’s eyes narrowed with recognition. The insensible demon leaning against Rosie for support was clearly Alastor’s kitty-faced beau.

“I-I… that is WE,” Vox stammered unevenly, “We are attempting to stop Alastor from raising an army to conquer all of Hell!” With a gesture, he pulled the unsteady form of the nearly-collapsed cat demon forward, shoving the woozy figure in front of himself like a shield. “Alastor has… Has somehow discovered a way to breed some sort of hellspawn via mortal-born demons!” Vox continued, as a few of his surviving fellows began to nod along as they cringed under Lucifer’s burning gaze. 

“He’s attempting to destroy the order of the Underworld! He’ll create his own army and destroy everything that we’ve all worked to build!” Now frantic, Vox drew himself to his full height to declare “Something must be done!” 

Lucifer let the silence after this last statement hang over them all. He was enjoying how the ominous seconds ticked by, pulling anxiety from the very pores of the rabble before him. He fancied he saw digital condensation seeping from the edges of Vox’s screen. Behind him, Lil walked up slowly to cross her arms over her chest. 

“And why,” she sighed with annoyance, “Are we supposed to care about any of this?” 

Vox fairly short-circuited at the question, staring at Lilith’s unimpressed expression with shock. Oh, that wouldn’t do. 

Lucifer began to stalk forward, pressing into Vox’s space until the television demon was obliged to begin backing away in response. 

Rosie quickly moved to secure the flagging cat demon as Lucifer’s six huge wings split the air, reducing bodies of the little group of Vox’s followers to sparkling dust. The cords and cables holding the two prisoners were similarly destroyed.

Vox found himself backed against a wall, squirming under the rage-filled scrutiny of his master. 

Lucifer glowered at the dumbstruck demon for a moment. “You know, I don’t ask a lot of you self-absorbed boot-lickers,” he growled softly. “I think I’m pretty darn reasonable about most things, and if someone can give me a doggone good reason why, I can even see my way clear to not be COMPLETELY LIVID that one of the very few DIRECT ORDERS that I issue has been ignored.” 

He let that sink in for a moment, and then gritted out “This was less a ‘reason’ to ignore my word than it was an ANNOYANCE that I will have to get your mess righted in my realm and your remains cleaned from my carpets. Do you really think that Alastor would be attaining information like this without my knowledge? Without my assistance? You must think me an utter and complete fool, Vox.” The Media Demon’s screen filled with interference as he frantically tried to gather himself enough to speak. “Oh, shut up,” the lord of Hell growled. With a flick of the fallen angel’s claws, the television demon dissolved in a burst of static. 

Lucifer took a deep breath and let it out slowly, willing his frayed patience to mend itself and his appearance to soften before he turned to face the remaining occupants of the room. When he looked back, Lilith had moved their guests to the chaise. Rosie was perched on the side, while Alastor’s husband sprawled across it. The women were fussing softly over the groggy cat demon, who was beginning to rouse from his stupor. 

“Wha… Where are...? Rosie?” 

The demoness had righted her appearance, once more the very model of near-perfection as she dabbed gently at the muttering figure’s face with a dampened handkerchief. “There we are, dear. Right as rain and only half as wet, hm? We’ll have you cleaned up and presentable again in no time. Then we’ll just have to get Alastor calmed down a bit so that he’s hearing words again, and we’ll be set.” 

The bedraggled cat demon barely seemed to register that anyone was speaking at first, let alone who was doing the talking. Instead, he was groping at his wide stomach, frowning. “It’s not moving.” 

Rosie froze for a moment, blinking her large dark eyeless gaze before pushing a smile back on her face. “I’m sure it’s fine, dear. All the excitement probably just exhausted the poor little thing.” 

“It’s not moving,” Husk repeated, voice trembling as he pressed more insistently at his belly. “Goddamn it… Goddamn it, I killed the kid. I just fucking LAID THERE and let that bastard-!” 

Rosie reached out and slapped the startled cat demon across the face briskly. Surprised out of his reverie, Husk stared up at her. Squaring her shoulders with a grimace, the demoness leveled a serious glare at him. “Stop panicking. It’s doing no good. We don’t know what’s happened just yet, and no matter WHAT has happened, if anything, it’s not because of you. If anything, it’s because of my carelessness and the inordinate amount of trust I placed in my personal assistant.” 

A regretful grimace twisted Rosie’s lips for a moment. “Vox used poor Harper to get to me, and me to get to you. And you, and your little one, were used to get to Alastor. If I had paid enough attention, I would have noticed whatever tracing sigil that Harper was convinced to put on me. I was foolish, however. And my negligence is entirely to blame, not only for your discovery, but for leading you directly into the trap they connived to lay.” 

The demoness let out a shaky sigh. “For whatever misfortune those events had, the blame lies solely at my feet, my dear. Not yours. So don’t blame yourself, and don’t lose your head to what ifs. We need Alastor. He can tell us what’s happening and what can be done.” 

Lilith’s tall form paced over to the balcony, where she watched the massive were-deer monstrosity that was Alastor tearing through the ground below what had been the city block supporting Vox’s tower. “Alastor may be beyond reach at the moment. I could try singing him down, but I don’t think he would hear me in his current state.” 

Lucifer hummed as he joined his wife in watching the carnage below. “Well, I suppose that I’m game to go down there and give him a little knock to get his attention, but I think it would go poorly for him afterwards. Rosie?” 

The well-dressed demoness shook her head with a sigh. “I would volunteer, but I’m afraid that I am at my limit. Vox and his vicious brutes were troublesome to deal with. I doubt that Alastor would even notice my presence, as I am now.” 

Husk was staring towards the open gate of the balcony, brows furrowed and a frown on his exhausted face. “If m’ damned wings would cooperate, I’d just fly down there. It’s me he wants, he’d come t’ himself in an instant if he saw me comin’ fer ‘I’m” He sagged against the cushions with a groan. “I’m wiped out, though. This’s already tappin’ m’ reserves pretty hard, an’ then tryin’ to’fight free o’ Vox.. I’m just beat.” 

“I think I have a suggestion!” a new voice broke in, startling the group. Princess Charlotte strode into the room through the agape doors, a determined gleam in her eye and a confident spring in her step. She walked into the throne room and approached the demons clustered around the balcony door. “I can talk to Alastor. Whatever his issue is, I’m sure I can get through to him!” She crossed her arms confidently in the face of the blank stares she was getting. 

“His issue,” Husk sighed, “Is that he got me pregnant an’ then Vox kidnapped an’ tried t’ kill me. Al don’t have a clue where I am an’ he’s lost his goddamn mind in a single-minded rage tryin’ t’ figure out where I am an’ how t’ get me back. So, if you’re volunteering t’ march int’ THAT mess, you’d better keep yer fuckin’ distance as much as possible.” 

Charlie’s self-assured demeanor flagged a bit at that, and she spent a good long moment gaping at the cat demon’s swollen middle before getting herself collected once more. “I want to say what the heck and also congratulations, but… this does sound pretty bad,” she muttered softly. 

“I think there’s something wrong,” Husk replied softly, running a hand over his stomach. “I need Al.” 

Charlie squared her shoulders, head raising with the burning fires of determination. “Then I’m getting him for you.” 

Lucifer stared his daughter down thoughtfully. “Well Appleseed, this is a mighty fine show of bravado and all, but do you have a plan? Are you bringing Alastor here, or should we set up a rendezvous elsewhere?” Outside, another city block was abruptly razed to the ground with a bone-rattling roar. “Someplace less likely to annoy your mother if it’s damaged?” he added with a coy glance in Lilith’s direction. “Can’t have another pirate broadcast sort of farce happening on our doorstep.” Lil crossed her arms and glared back at him. 

The princess frowned for a moment, and then met her father’s gaze with a determined smile. “The hotel,” she suggested. “I’ll bring him to the hotel.” 

“Charlotte,” Lilith interrupted with a raised eyebrow. “I hope you know what you’re getting into. Alastor is not currently in a state for a civil conversation. He may not even recognize you, dear. If you’re not prepared to use your full strength to defend yourself at a moment’s notice, you could find yourself injured.” Her expression darkened. “And anyone who injures you in my sight, regardless of the reason, will find themselves eliminated.” 

Lucifer chuckled, walking over to slap his daughter on the shoulder. “Now Lil, let’s not get dramatic just yet. You’re always telling our Charlie she can be whatever she wants, and today she’s decided she’s going to be a hero. Right, Appleseed?” At Charlie’s shaky grin, he smirked. “And while I think it’s a bit of a fool thing, it’s the stance she’s taking. Very well my dear, take it and don’t back down. Go get Alastor and I’ll take care of the other arrangements.” Husk had just enough time to look startled as the fallen angel walked over to stand next to him. The pair of them vanished with a jaunty wave of Lucifer’s hand.

“Right,” Charlie muttered to herself. “I can do this. I can do this.” The princess’ full demon form swept over her as she ran for the window. A pair of dappled, bat-like wings and a matching set of large horns sprang from her body as she leapt from the precipice. Left behind, Lilith glared at the rampaging form of the Radio Demon in the distance. “You’d better know what you’re doing, my daughter.” 

Charlie dove through the columns of thick smoke surrounding Alastor, using her wings to glide on the burning updrafts towards the enraged, nearly-skeletal deer demon. The creature was tall and thin, a mockery of a transmission antenna given limbs and a shrieking antlered skull. Frayed, papery skin stretched taut over the bones, torn open in places. Threadbare fabric from his clothing billowed around him as his shadows boiled from every break in his surface, creating a dark miasma that gave his senseless red eyes a more sinister glow. 

“ALASTOR!” she shouted, letting her power amplify her voice. “ALASTOR, LISTEN TO ME!” 

The massive, nearly skull-like head swung towards her, and for a moment Charlie was certain this was going to be easier than she had dared to hope. Then the towering apparition seemed to unhinge its gaping maw wider, the jaw splitting in two and swinging open wide enough to nearly touch the boney lines of the figure’s chest. An echoing, horrendous shriek of rage echoed out of the emaciated form as a shadowy figure erupted from its straining gullet. Dark, desiccated arms and a screeching black deer-like skull poured from the cadaverous creature’s mouth, roaring in deathly fury. 

Charlie dodged a freshly-branching array of shadowy antlers from the thing coming from inside of Alastor with a yelp of surprise. Oh, this was not good. This was a disaster. Husk was the only one who’d ever had much success in peacefully calming Alastor from a state like this, but she couldn’t GET Husk to him. And if she couldn’t GET Husk to him, then… She shook her head, refusing to follow that train of thought. 

What would Husk do if he was trying to get Al’s attention? Suddenly, Charlie smiled. Swinging a wide arc around him, she raised her own voice in full-fledged irritation and anger. “ALASTOR! SHUT THE FUCK UP!” 

The shadow-creature seemed to recoil at the command, blinking as if surprised from his daze. A confused, warbling keen came from the thing as it finally focused fully on her. Sensing her opportunity at last, Charlie swooped closer. “HUSK IS SAFE, DO YOU HEAR ME? HE’S SAFE BUT I CAN’T GET YOU TO HIM IF YOU’RE LIKE THIS! HE NEEDS YOU, AL!” 

The massive figure reeled a bit, swaying in place as the Radio Demon’s outrage began to dissipate. The shadows melted away as the deer demon began to collapse back to his normal size, resolving into the more familiar form of Alastor’s shadowy servant, which steadied the gasping overlord on his shaking feet. Charlie let herself drop to the ground before him, watching his face for a moment as she gauged his mental state. 

“H-Husker,” Alastor panted, eyes sunken and his expression raw and searching. His body was gaunter than usual. Almost emaciated from the energy drain of maintaining his full demon form for the duration of his prolonged rampage. The deer demon nearly staggered as he stared at her. It was the face of a man whose hopeless prayer was being dangled over his head. “He- He’s really safe? Please my dear, tell me you’ve got him safe!” 

Charlie darted forward to put her shoulder under the wavering Alastor’s other arm, nodding firmly. “I missed seeing how it happened, but Dad has him. They’re waiting for us at the hotel. Can you get us there?” 

Alastor’s eyes fluttered shut as he sagged against Charlie in relief for a moment. “Y-Yes, I think I can manage. Thank you, dear. Let me just… concentrate.” There was a shaky wobble as Alastor used his powers, but when Charlie blinked she found that they were indeed in the lobby of the old Happy Hotel. No longer a halfway house for rehabilitating sinners, it was now being converted into a slightly run-down apartment building under the care of one of the previous clients. 

Angel Dust looked up from the little cluster he and Lucifer were making around one of the sofas as Charlie and Alastor appeared. A cautious grin pulled at the spider demon’s face. “Hey, there they are. Took ya long enough to get your shit together, Smiles. C’mon kitty, lover-boy’s here at last! Perk up!” 

Alastor bolted across the room, grabbing onto Husk’s readily-extended arms and pulling him upward into a tight embrace. His shadow appeared on the wall behind the sofa, squinting at the others in a judgmental manner. “Oh mon cheri, mwèn regret! I could not find you! I tried!” Alastor breathed into Husk’s shoulder, stroking the back of his head with one hand and smoothing his ruffled feathers with the other. Husk melted into the contact for a moment before pushing his husband away. All business, he grimaced at the searching look on Alastor’s face. 

“Al, I think somethin’s wrong. Th’ kid, they ain’t movin’, an’ I uh- got a bit o’ rough handlin’ while I was gone.” 

Alastor immediately stood, fatigue forgotten as he swept Husk into his arms. His shadow vanished with the motion. “Understood, my dearest. I’ll have you home post-haste.” His grim smile flickered as he looked over at Charlie and her father. “I’m once again deeply in your debt,” he mused, bowing his head in deference to the figure in white. “I hardly know how I’ll be able to properly show my appreciation.” 

Lucifer gave a snorting giggle at the display, waving the humbled deer demon off. “Oh think nothing of it, Alastor. As you would say, consider it entertainment. This little escapade has brought about some much-needed house-cleaning in the hierarchy.” He chuckled to himself before grinning toothily at the deer demon. “I expect that the results will be a real hoot, as well!” His smile curled with a sinister edge. “Just you remember what you owe, kid. I’ve never been a fan of welchers.” 

Charlie and Angel blinked at that, and Husk gave Alastor a startled, searching look. The Radio Demon merely grinned in reply. “Well then, let us make tracks, Husker!” The duo vanished in a swirl of shadow-magic and magic sigils. 

“Dad,” Charlie asked cautiously, “What did you do?” Lucifer merely winked at her before disappearing in a swirl of dark feathers and writhing snakes. “DAAAD!” Charlie shrieked before darting for the door, “What did you DO!?” 

When Husk’s vision cleared, he found himself being settled on an unfamiliar bed. Alastor leaned over him for a moment, smiling gently through the exhaustion seeping from his very being. His shadow appeared beside the deer demon after a moment, holding a tray of food, drink, and other items Husk couldn’t quite see from his position. 

“Where’re we?” he asked, accepting a glass of water from the dark entity. “This ain’t our place.” 

“It is and it isn’t,” Alastor replied with a shrug. “I’m afraid that our previous home was rather badly damaged in my little altercation with Velvet, and I will need some time to reconstitute something proper. For the moment, I have conjured us a quaint, underground cottage. I took the liberty of moving our location, as well. No more surprise visitors, my dear. I promise you.” 

Husk sipped at his drink, giving his husband a critical eye. Alastor was doing his best to put on a front that he wasn’t absolutely wiped out. A pang at the loss of their home stung his heart. He’d liked their little red and teal bungalow. That had been a cottage. This? This was barely more than a bunker. 

The room he was in was barely large enough for the bed he was sprawled on. Crowded at the foot was the now-familiar crib and the purple chair that Alastor had so vehemently professed to hate. A door at the far wall seemed to imply a bathroom suite, and the top of a staircase appeared just to the right of that opening. The downstairs was probably no larger than the up. Alastor must truly be nearing the end of his strength.

“Now, let’s have a look at you, dearest,” Alastor insisted, gently brushing a hand across Husk’s left ear. 

The cat demon leaned into the touch with a sigh, nodding. As Al slowly took cautious stock of his condition, Husk accepted a bowl of grits and cheese from the shadow and took a few cautious bites. The warm food settled his nerves in a way that even Al’s presence hadn’t fully managed, and as half the bowl vanished to his appetite, a soft rumble of a purr began to sound from deep in his chest. 

Home was weird at the moment, but he was finally here and safe. Alastor was waving a small blue bottle of who knew what around and doing some magic bullshit. The cat demon swallowed, his fearful wet eyes fixed on his stomach. All was nearly right with the world again, if only-

Alastor jumped as something shifted deep in Husk’s gut. “Oh!” he yelped in surprise, jerking his face away from where he’d been intently listening to the cat demon’s stomach. “Well, I suppose that answers that,” he chuckled, giving Husk an exhausted smirk. “The child is perfectly fine, darling. Just a little tired from all the excitement.”

Husk went limp with relief, letting the nearly-empty bowl in his hands clatter to the floor. “Is it appropriate t’ thank god?” he asked the ceiling. “‘Cause thank god. God, Lucifer, whatever. Fuck, this whole day took decades offa m’ damned afterlife!” 

Alastor’s shadow took the bottle, along with the tray and the discarded food. The lot vanished with a hiss of shadow magic.

The Radio Demon gave an exhausted, soft laugh. “I concur, Husker-dear. I think the best thing for all of us is to turn in early and recuperate, hm?” He shrugged off his coat and tie, tossing them in the general direction of the purple chair before kicking off his shoes as well. 

“Hey wait, where d’yabthink-?” Husk objected, just before Alastor clambered into the small bed alongside him, wrapping his limbs around the cat demon like a boa constrictor. 

“Goodnight, my dears,” Alastor yawned, settling his head on Husk’s chest. He relaxed almost immediately, breaths soft and deep as a dreamless sleep claimed him. 

Husk sighed, reaching to smooth some of Al’s hair out of the endearing, darling bastard’s face. “Goodnight Al.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A note about my particular depiction of Lucifer: I tend to imagine him being played by Jack McBrayer, with that genial good ol’ boy attitude. Riiiiight up until he gets mad and turns into an roaring, unholy multi-winged goat-serpent monstrosity, that is.


	6. Dying For It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.

Husk awoke groggily to the smell of food and an almost painful need to relieve himself. How long had he been asleep? It felt like a thousand years, with the damned kid abusing his bladder the whole time. He rolled sluggishly out of bed, setting his sights on the small ensuite. Holy shit, he felt like he’d doubled his body weight since the last time he’d been conscious, he thought with an annoyed yawn. If he got any bigger, he’d just have to start rolling everywhere he needed to go.

Alastor’s shadow slid under the door as Husk was washing his hands, looking remarkably put-out that the cat demon was out of bed. It growled some wordless irritation, to which Husk let himself hiss softly back. Although there had been no real force or venom behind the sound, the shadow recoiled a little. 

“It’s too fuckin’ early in the goddamned morning for all of this,” Husk muttered as he dried his claws. The shadow gave a grumble at that, and Husk rolled his eyes. “Morning, afternoon, I don’t give a fuck. It’s way too damned early, regardless.” He glared down at his stomach, which twinged as the baby squirmed around. “And don’t YOU fuckin’ start with me, either!” he growled, frowning at the expanse of fur obscuring everything from his waist down. “Too goddamned early. That’s my position and I stand by it. Now where the hell has Al gotten to?” 

The shadow’s sneer twisted into a more neutral grin as it gestured downward. Extending a hand in Husk’s direction, it reached behind itself to pull open the door. The hand stayed perfectly in place as the rest of the magically-created creature swung away with the door surface. Husk eyed the expectant appendage for a moment before sighing and reaching for it. As his claw-like fingers closed upon it, the rest of the shadow being slithered back into his frame of vision and began guiding him toward the small staircase. 

“I’d be a lot more pissed about the kid gloves if I could even SEE the damned stairs,” Husk grumbled, letting the dark apparition lead him down the winder staircase towards the smell of food. 

Alastor looked up from his cooking as Husk was carefully negotiated down the stairs and escorted to the dining nook beneath. “Good morning, my darling! And how are you feeling this morning?” 

“I’m a whale,” Husk grumbled as he took a seat. “A fuckin’ huge, goddamned whale.” His stomach growled testily as he shifted position on the cushioned bench. “What the shit, I can’t even get comfortable like this. My guts are squashed, your kid is playing xylophone on my ribs, and the only reason I know I’ve still got feet is that they’re already sore from walking down here.” 

Alastor’s bold grin shrank to a more gentle smile as he listened to the rant. “Let’s see what we can do about some of that, at least.” The bench seat began to lengthen and grow, rounding out into more of a scoop shape as Husk startled. The pillows and cushions multiplied, surrounding the cat demon in a fluffy embrace and elevating his feet as his upper body was reclined. 

“Whoa!” Husk yelped, seizing hold of the soft surface as it moved. “What the shit, Al?” 

“Comfy?” Alastor asked, setting a plate of grillades and grits down on the table. Husk eyed the distant food-bearing surface with an unimpressed glower. 

“Fine, I guess. Now how am I supposed to reach the food? Don’t tell me you intend to- Oh goddamn it.” Before he could even finish the thought, Alastor had scooped up a fork full of beef, bell pepper and celery and was expectantly holding it about three inches away from the cat demon’s mouth. “You’re not feeding me like a baby, Alastor.” 

The deer demon merely gave him a patient smirk. “Consider it repayment for allowing that.. _sou moun fool_ to get his disgusting hands upon you, my darling. Now don’t be such a grump and let me take care of you, hm?” 

Husk squinted at the moniker, prompting Alastor to chuckle. “You know I mean it with affection, cheri.” 

“I guess,” Husk complained, and found his open mouth quickly filled with Alastor’s sinfully delectable cooking. He meant to growl in annoyance, but somehow his traitorous mouth turned the sound into a moan of greedy appreciation. “I’m so fucking pissed off right now,” he began again, and found himself once more on the receiving end of a mouthful of well-seasoned food. “I mean it, this is demeaning,” he grumbled, crossing his arms and turning his head. 

“Demeaning? I merely want to pamper you a bit, dear!” Alastor retorted with a furrow of his brows. “You need to save up your strength at least, considering what’s coming later.” 

“What’s that?” Husk asked, rolling his eyes at the spoonful of grits and green onions that found their way onto his tongue. Alastor tutted at the question, and with a shake of his head he gave Husk a level look. 

“Today is day three, darling. We’re going to be meeting the small one very soon.” Husk’s ears perked at that, even as his tail swayed from side to side in trepidation as he returned his attention to the mass slowly crushing his organs.

“Fuck. It is, isn’t it?” he asked softly, a look of something between astonishment and terror growing in his eyes. “I’m gonna... we’re...” He shivered. “Shit, I wish I had a drink.” 

Alastor’s head cocked slightly to the side. “I’m not certain what you mean, dear.” 

The cat demon’s head snapped up, his eyes meeting Alastor’s in shock. “You can’t be serious. I’m having a damned BABY, Al. This thing is coming out of me! Shit, if I had a choice I’d be drunk already and skip to the part where this whole freaky stage of this mess is over with!” His language quickly devolved into garbled curses.

Alastor blinked slowly, processing the rapid series of not-quite questions that were quickly buried under layers of sputtered half-Russian, half-Mandarin swearing that bled over into nonsense sounds. At last Husk ran out of energy and relaxed, drooping bonelessly back into his seat to stare at the ceiling. “I cannot believe this,” he sighed. “I cannot fucking believe this.” 

“My dearest, would that I could take away your fears,” Alastor left his seat to kneel in front of his husband, genuinely startled by the cat chimera’s fit of nerves. “Mon cher, I do apologize for the confusion, but I had no idea you harbored such worries over the delivery of-!” 

Husk waved him off with a long-suffering sigh. “It’s not just that, but I’m worried about that as well. I’m just... overtired by this whole thing. It’s been one big circus since the word go, and my energy is still almost zero. Well, we’ll get through it, I suppose.” He spared his husband a pointed glare. “But you’d better believe that I want drugs. All the drugs, and whatever booze I can negotiate out of you.” 

“No alcohol,” Alastor immediately objected. “Absolutely not, there’s too much danger of a poor reaction!” 

“Fine, alcohol after. Drugs first.” 

“Alcohol well after, when you’re healed and can handle your liquor again.” 

“Wait, how long’re we talking here-” Husk found himself on the receiving end of another heaping spoon of grits and beef. Unable to make an appropriately annoyed sound with his tongue drowning in flavorful roux, he settled for giving Alastor the best glare he could manage. Based on the peaceful expression on his husband’s face, he had achieved merely looking preciously pouty. 

Alastor suddenly reached out and gently scratched the furrow between the cat demon’s large, feathered eyebrows. “Now, now. If you’re making such a face when the child makes their appearance, you will frighten them,” Alastor chided gently. “Come my dear, trust me.” The radio demon’s face darkened with self-loathing determination then. “I will not fail you again, cara mia.” His voice dropped into a dark hiss. “Never again.” 

Husk reached for his husband’s left hand, holding it gently in his large claws. Idly, he noted that the forearm was healed, no longer wrapped in bandages and bearing no signs of the wounds his fangs had inflicted. He carefully ran a claw up the surface, noting the way Alastor seemed to melt into the contact. Pulling Al’s hand closer, he pressed a quick kiss to the back before glaring earnestly up at the deer demon’s blood-colored eyes. 

“Don’t,” he breathed softly, pressing their clasped hands to his chest. “Whatever that look you’re doing is, just… Just don’t, Al.” Husk let his eyes fall closed, relaxing into the embrace of his cushions. “You think it’s your fault. I think it’s my fault. Hell, Rosie is certain it’s her fault. Fuck it all, we all need to face the facts. It was Vox’s fault, and only the ability to see into the future would have helped us in the face of it. At least the fucker’s gone, now.” 

“Gone?” Alastor repeated, voice so soft that even Husk’s sensitive hearing almost didn’t catch it. The cat demon blinked his eyes open, thinking. 

“No one told-? Ah yeah, I guess it didn’t come up. Vox is gone. GONE, gone. Lucifer popped him like an overinflated balloon. And he’s not coming back from an angel’s wrath. Not even a fallen one.” 

Alastor’s eyes were wide with shock at the news, and he fidgeted with his free hand for a moment before replying. “I must confess, I am simultaneously enthralled at his utter destruction and rather infuriated that I didn’t get to witness or cause it myself.” 

“Mm,” Husk made a non-committal sound at that. “What happened to Velvet, anyway?” 

Alastor’s expression shifted into a mild grimace. “When I discovered it was she and not Vox himself who was attacking our home, I ripped off her arms. And ate them.” He shuddered at the memory. “She had no substance, it was like eating that… candy floss stuff. Pure sugar, all the way down to her brittle, gritty bones.” Husk let out a huff of disgusted amusement at the distaste on Alastor’s face. 

The Radio Demon spared a small smirk at the expression on Husk’s face, then sobered. “When I realized that you were gone, I admit that I lost control a bit. I’ll spare you the details of what occurred, but please know that it was very, very final.” He straightened, reaching out to gently embrace the side of Husk’s face with his free hand. “I realized yesterday,” he admitted, voice soft and low. “I realized that I could not continue without you, cheri.” 

Husk’s heart gave a painful squeeze at the admission, and he tightened his grip on Alastor’s hand. “Al..” 

“Let me finish!” Alastor interrupted, the perpetual smile had fallen from his face and what was left behind was frightening in its rawness. “I could not find you, and felt myself sinking into a despair that seemed bottomless. No matter how I raged, how much destruction I wrought, nothing made even a drop’s worth of difference in filling the massive crevasse within me. I lost myself, in my pain and terror. I was no longer Alastor. I was… I don’t know what I was. Something that I’d never been before, I should think. Something that I had no idea I could become. It was beyond merely being in my full demon form. It was... senseless insanity.” 

Husk reached out, ensnaring Alastor’s right hand to pull it to himself as well. “I didn’t see,” he vowed softly. 

“I’m glad,” Alastor admitted, shoulders and ears drooping as he stared at their joined hands. “I believe I would have frightened you, in my madness.” A faint glimmer of moisture shone in the Radio Demon’s eyes. He gave a breathless little laugh, shaking his head. “The strength of the hold you have on me... Husker, it sometimes frightens me, if I’m to be honest. And yet- yet when I thought you lost to me? I would have gladly suffered a thousand years of that torment, fully aware as I screamed into the abyss, if only to know that I would catch so much as a glimpse of you safe at the end.” 

Husk abandoned holding Alastor’s hands to throw his arms around his husband’s shoulders. Alastor twitched a little at the sudden move, but quickly melted into the embrace. He sagged against Husk, letting himself fall into the fluffy fur of the cat demon’s chest and slide down to come to rest against his pronounced belly. He reached out to wrap his arms around as much of the purring figure’s waist as he could manage, rubbing his face against the soft fur. 

“Let’s not get dramatic, Al,” Husk insisted, reaching up to slide his claws through the stark red and black of Alastor’s ears. “After that last display, there’s no way anyone’s gonna so much as look crossways at either of us for a long time. A long, long time.” He flinched slightly as Alastor snuggled against him. “Hey, watch the pointy bits, there. I know you just discovered you have a whole… fetish or whatever, but…” 

Alastor’s head snapped up at that, his indignantly burning face mere inches from Husk’s own. “I do NOT have a… a _FETISH!_ How dare you, Husker!” 

“Uh-huh,” Husk replied calmly, a smirk on his face as he met Alastor’s furious glare with a gleeful glimmer in his eyes. “Just keep telling yourself that, Al. We’ll see how long it takes before- Ah, and there you go.” 

Alastor gave a sulky huff as he lowered his head so that his cheek was once again resting against Husk’s midsection. “It’s NOT a fetish!” he complained, lip jutting out in a pout. “You’re simply extra cuddly and adorable, and I am… compelled to appreciate it!” 

“Fe-tish,” Husk hummed back at him, tone light as he teased. When Alastor grumbled in return, Husk leaned forward as best he could to kiss the top of the sulking deer demon’s head. “Fine then, I’m extra cuddly, and ready to be appreciated.” 

The duo spent most of the day in the downstairs great room of the little cottage, alternately talking, snoozing, cooking and snacking. Under Alastor’s cautious supervision, Husk explored the place when he felt rested enough to make the effort. The space was long and narrow, their recently-purchased loveseat at one end, the kitchen bar in front of it housing the sink and range. 

The majority of the space was pure kitchen, a vast pantry and Al’s familiar large refrigerator taking up a large amount of the room. A tall, narrow bookshelf separated the pantry’s double doors from the altered breakfast nook. A small island in the middle of the kitchen floor boasted folding leaves, one of which backed up to the breakfast nook nestled under the stairs. 

The walls were whitewashed, save for small spaces that appeared to be faint glimpses of the familiar wall coverings of their old home shining through the “paint”. The wood trimmings and counters had a deep, lustrous red oak finish. Artificial light was the sole source of illumination throughout the entire place, and that was more than slightly odd. 

“No windows,” Husk noted. “No exterior doors, either.” 

“No need,” Alastor had responded readily. “I’ve situated us underground. Quite strategic, if I do say so, myself.” 

Husk had hummed at that, not quite willing to admit that while on a conceptual level he was a little alarmed by the prospect, his feline demon instincts had rather liked the notion. It was a den. A very nice, if small, den. As Alastor began to fuss a bit in front of the stove once more, Husk realized that Al’s own instincts were probably a bit less comfortable than his own were. 

“Al, throw a picture of some woods or a mural up on the wall or something if it’ll calm you down. For pity’s sake, it looks like you’re feeding an army over there.” Husk stretched his arms over his head, wishing he had the room to spread his wings for a good stretch as well but too lazy to do the maneuvering that the desire would need. Settling onto the loveseat, he watched as Alastor began mixing some sort of batter. 

“It’s less the close quarters that bother me than the anticipation,” Alastor retorted in the tone that meant he was absolutely a liar, nearly bouncing in place as he started a pan of oil heating on the range. “Why, I’ve made so many predictive models, but who knows what the result of our blood union will be? Mere hours separate us from the reveal, and the thought that our child may even be something I had not considered is… well it’s exhilarating, Husker!” 

“Predictive models?” Husk queried, pausing in the lazy preening he’d begun of one of his wings. “What the hell’re ya talking about, Al?” 

“I made pictures!” Alastor exalted, leaving his current project to dive for the narrow bookshelf that was squeezed into the wall between the pantry and the breakfast nook. Quickly brushing over the collection of cookbooks, loosely-bound notepapers and the like, he produced a small hardbound book with a black cover. The single word “Ideas” gleamed in silvery text on the surface. Alastor looked pleased as punch to present the volume to the bemused cat demon, and helped himself to a seat on the small sofa beside him. 

“I must admit, many of these are mere doodles. I’m no artist, I’m afraid. These are merely idle ponderings, and most are poorly-realized, you understand,” Al demurred, watching as Husk hesitantly cracked open the battered volume. “Ever since that evening when you commented upon a wish for offspring, I must admit that my imagination was racing with the notion. When I had a thought on the matter, I endeavored to record it.” 

The first few pages were scattered thoughts, jotted quickly down in as Alastor had debated the notion addressed therein. Husk gave a snort of laughter at the large comment of “BUT THEY ARE STICKY AND GET INTO EVERYTHING” that took up a corner of one page. Clearly Al had debated with himself on the notion a bit. On the next page, a hesitantly scribbled kitten-like creature appeared, next to a message in tiny print.

“It would be a tiny Husker,” Husk read, sparing his husband a glance. The Radio Demon merely sniffed in reply. 

Husk raised his eyebrows, turning back to the pages. After that, the doodles became more numerous, and the notes accompanying them more enthusiastic. Eventually they faded to mere exclamations here and there on things that Al especially liked. As for the drawings themselves, they began to change from fairly homogenous cat-like creatures to a full menagerie of chimeras with a wide variety of combined features. 

A mostly human-looking child on one page sported Husk’s large wings and a note that it was “far too angelic”. A long-bodied were-creature with deer-like limbs and a startlingly ferocious face was half-rendered in shadowy strokes of a pen, next to the phrase “transformation possible?” Some of the drawings were merely a few pen strokes to suggest the lines of a head or other features that had occurred to Alastor, and others were carefully-rendered portraits that had been lovingly accented with colored inks. 

As the book progressed, additional scraps of paper began to litter the pages, full of notes on Alastor’s research on the magicks required to create his new passion project, or even sketches that had been done elsewhere and added into the mix with a quick splash of paste. “Geez Al,” Husk muttered as he gingerly replaced a loose scrap of paper, “Since when do you draw? And where the fuck did you come up with the time for all of this?” 

Alastor hummed, his left arm slung around Husk’s shoulders as he ran his fingers through the fluff on Husk’s left cheek. “A habit from my time Before, my dearest. When you’re between live spots on the radio, one needs a hobby. Something stationary, which can be picked up or dropped at a moment’s notice. The books that interested me were unsuited for such brief spans of attention, and Maman always did enjoy the sketches of songbirds that came to my window during breaks. As for these? Well, it is much the same. A stolen moment here or there. A few seconds idle thought, jotted down in a rush late at night.” 

He straightened suddenly as the pan on the stove began to steam and threaten to smoke. “Oh dear, the beignets. I’d almost forgotten.” 

Husk shook his head, returning his attention to the pages. It was impossible to tell more than a vague timeline of Alastor’s process. Eventually, at about the halfway mark of the volume, he began to notice a new series of scribbled comments expressing confusion or frustration about the way the research was going. A partially torn-out page began with speculation about finding a mysterious ingredient, but no mention of what the substance was appeared on the remaining page. 

By the time Alastor presented him with powdered sugar-dusted treats, Husk was skimming the last pages of the journal and yawning drowsily. Putting the book aside, he gladly accepted one of the beignets. “You’ve been a busy little mad scientist, haven’t you?” he asked as Alastor settled in next to him once more. “Hope you’re not disappointed if none of your predictions come true. Ya put a lot of work into all those drawings, dear hart.” 

Alastor spared him a curious glance. “Oh we’re doing pet names now, are we Husker?” 

“Eh, what can I say, you’re too damned cute for my own good,” the cat demon responded as he sank his teeth into the warm fried dough and sugar. “Enjoy the love while ya can, I may be cursing generations of your forebears soon.” Husk shifted, a small frown pulling at his face in spite of the heavenly confection in his claws. “Goddamned… Vox must’ve done a better number on me than I thought,” he admitted with a sigh. “Freaking back is killing me today.” 

Alastor’s brief expression of content pulled into a grimace. “Do you need to lie down for a while? Perhaps get a little more rest?” 

Husk nodded at the idea, pointedly shoving the rest of the light, fluffy dessert into his mouth before letting Alastor help him stand. “I think maybe I pulled something yesterday. These damned wings are good for that. I dunno how many times I’ve hurt myself with the things, especially tryin’ to fly and shit. Easier to walk most places.” 

Alastor cautiously guided Husk back up the stairs and manifested a few more pillows and cushions for the bed before settling him in. Husk was smiling at the deer demon when he pulled back to reach for the light blanket. “You’re getting better, Al. That looked like it took no effort at all.” 

Startled and somewhat flustered by the compliment, Alastor gave a little fluttery sputter. “Well… I mean it’s to be expected. Hardly anything worth noting, darling.” 

“Sure, Al. You’d like to think I didn’t notice you were hanging by a thread yesterday,” Husk yawned, snuggling carefully into the veritable nest of soft, fluffy things. “But I did. You’re getting better, and doing it fast. Take the damned compliment or I’ll wallow my way out of this pillow fort and hit you with your research notes.” 

Alastor huffed, but said nothing.

The peace would not last. Hours later, Husk’s back wasn’t getting better. In fact, as the clock on the wall informed that day turned to evening, it seemed to be getting worse. Alastor had given a soft hum of effort at one point and announced that a laundry room had been sprouted off the downstairs. Soon he was bringing a constant supply of hot towels for Husk to lay on, in the hopes that the warmth would ease the discomfort. It did help, if only slightly. However, it also meant that Husk was uncomfortably warm and unable to rest whether his back was aching or not. 

Afternoon stretched into evening, and Husk was an exhausted, bedraggled, temper-frayed wreck. He had finally consented to Alastor piling up pillows around him so that he could lay mostly on his stomach. Alastor was endeavoring to massage away the muscle spasms when a thought occurred to him. The spasms were a bit regular, weren’t they? 

“Husker? Have you considered that this could be labor?” 

Husk didn’t even raise his head as he groaned out his response. “M’not in fucking labor. I’ve sprained something. I’d know if I was in labor. Fucking… what’s it called? Water or whatever would have broken or something if I was in labor, right?” 

Alastor had no rejoinder for that. It certainly made sense. He returned his attention to rubbing gentle circles into Husker’s lower back as evening stretched into night. All the while, despite his best efforts, the pain got worse. The spasms continued, and the pain seemed to spread.

As the clock on the wall announced that night had come, Husk’s exhaustion had him to the breaking point. “Leggo,” Husker complained, abruptly furious as the hour chimed. “Get offa me! Stop touchin’ me! I think yer makin’ th’ shit worse! FUCK! S’never been this bad before!” 

Chastised, Alastor pulled back and helped Husk push himself onto his side. The cat demon let out a piteous noise as he curled up on himself, trembling. The deer demon helplessly wrung his hands as his husband shook and whimpered. “Is… Is there anything I can do, dearest? A cool cloth? Something to drink? Food, perhaps?” Husk made a soft noise at the last suggestion, and Alastor decided to take it as agreement. Standing from his perch on the side of the bed, he summoned his shadow to keep watch before going downstairs to stare into the pantry. 

What would his mother do in a situation like this? His frazzled brain couldn’t supply an answer. His mother _always_ knew what to do, but Alastor? Alastor was nowhere as capable. Alastor was almost worthless in a crisis. Going to pieces or flying into a rage, those were his two settings when something was really wrong. 

The deer demon let himself wallow in self-recrimination for a moment more before reaching into the pantry for the cornmeal. Some coush-coush would be simple and quick. He had a strong suspicion that despite Husker’s earlier denials, either the pain he was feeling was labor or at least labor-related. And the time was absolutely counting down until- 

Something dark burst from inside the pantry, grabbing at Alastor’s arm. Startled, he dropped the box of cornmeal with a yelp of shock and fury, almost attacking before he recognized the shape. His shadow clung to him, desperately pulling him towards the stairs. Alastor froze for a moment with comprehending horror. 

**HUSKER.**

Alastor flung himself up the stairs, shouting his husband’s name. The smell of blood hit him in the face as he surged past the landing, and he was greeted by a grisly scene as he reached the second floor. Husker was twitching as he laid in a spreading pool of blood that dripped from the side of the bed. When Alastor pulled him into his arms, the cat demon was unresponsive, head lolling as the terrified overlord called him. 

Something had gone wrong. Something had gone terribly wrong. This was too much blood, wasn’t it? He knew how much blood should be in a body and this was far too much to be outside of one, he was almost certain of it. Husker’s body seized weakly again as Alastor sat down heavily in the floor, hyperventilating as he tried to think. He’d made so many plans, surely he’d planned for this, hadn’t he? He couldn’t remember. 

He couldn’t remember and Husker was DYING and Alastor had done it to him and it was all his fault and _what about the child?_ Husker would never forgive him if he let the child die, even if he tried his best to save it and he didn’t know what to do! 

He didn’t know what to do and he was useless and there was no one who could help him because he was the only one he’d trusted with his process and HUSKER WAS **DYING** AND THE **BLOOD** WAS EVERYWHERE AND THERE WAS **NO ONE** TO EVEN ASK FOR HELP AND **WHAT ABOUT THE BABY-** Alastor hung his head over Husk’s limp body, a racking sob leaving him as he despaired. 

“Alastor” 

“It’s no good, it’s no good!” he babbled to himself, rocking his unresponsive Husker back and forth in his arms. “I’m a fool! A murderer and a fool! Husker, my love, please forgive me…!!” he wailed, heedless to the voice beside him. 

“Alastor” 

A gentle hand brushed his hair aside, caressing the side of his face. Alastor jumped at the contact, jerking his head upwards to lock gazes with the intruder.


	7. Intervention

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It wasn’t supposed to be like this, either.

Husk was being held gently in someone’s arms, his head and shoulders carefully cradled as a voice hummed softly to him. The voice sounded like it was a thousand miles away, coming to him from across a stormy sea. His thoughts were scattered, coming to him like shells being washed onto shore.

The sun was shining brightly on him, painting the insides of his eyelids bright red. Red like Alastor’s hair and eyes. Mm, that was a comforting thought: Alastor. His Al. His stupid, wonderful, beloved moron. Something nagged at the back of his mind at the name. There was something he was supposed to do about Alastor right now, wasn’t there? Al was... what? His thoughts slid uselessly from his grip as he reached for them.

Well, no matter. He was finally comfortable and his exhausted mind could barely grasp the notion enough to appreciate it. Some sleep would be amazing right now. 

“Wake up, my angel.”

Husk’s face wrinkled as the voice left off humming to speak to him. It was closer now, wasn’t it? “M’not an angel,” he objected, eyes still closed against the light of the sun. “M’a stupid cat. Demon. Thing.” 

A laugh of amusement. A hand carefully touching one of his feathery wings. Gentle. So very gentle. “Oh so? Well, my dear one, you’ve got the wings of an angel. Blood-colored, marked like your father’s cards, but still the wings of an angel.” 

Husk’s warm, lazy thought process hitched, and his eyes opened reflexively. The owner of the familiar voice chuckled at his dumbfounded expression. “There you are, boy. What have you done to yourself this time, hm?” 

“…Ma?” 

There was no sun, it was the figure holding him in her arms that was emitting the fearsome glow that threatened to blind him. She was almost too bright to look at directly, forcing him to squint against the brilliance to catch a glimpse of the achingly familiar sideways-quirked smile and warm golden-brown eyes. Her form was slightly different. A little more feline than he recalled, with large, gently curved ears that rose above her head. A pair of pure white wings arced from her back, curling around her shoulders to encircle him as well.

“You’re in a world of trouble, young man,” she teased as he gaped up at her in flabbergasted awe. “When exactly were you planning going to tell me that I’m a grandma, hm?” 

Husk froze, tears filling his vision. “Ma? You’re really here?” He seized the hand that reached for his. “How?”

His mother looked hesitant to answer, staring at their joined hands as if the sight was sustaining her. Husk frowned at the worried expression, so unlike the outspoken woman who’d raised him. This had to be a dream then, didn’t it? “Ma?”

”It’s... I suppose you could say that I made a deal with someone.” She raised her face and smiled at him, radiant in spite of the slight quaver in her voice. “There’s nothing that a parent won’t do for their baby, and you’re still mine. You’ll see, soon enough. Don’t worry, it’s nothing that’s going to harm me, sweetheart. I just... owe helping get someone an introduction, okay?”

Husk frowned at that. What kind of introduction was worth this? _Was_ this a dream? He suddenly wasn’t so sure. “W-Where is here, anyway? What..?” He sat up, looking around the oppressive darkness that surrounded them, an ominous contrast to the brilliance of the soul beside him. “What’s happening, Ma?” He swallowed roughly, terror warring with the warm delight at his mother’s presence. Relieved of his weight, she shifted to sit beside him. She gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. 

“Welcome to the seal, kiddo.” She waved a luminous arm at the darkness around them. “When you die temporarily, this is where you go until your body recovers.” 

“Oh god, I’m fucking dead again,” Husk blurted, earning a light smack to his shoulder. 

“Language!” the glowing figure chastised. “You’re not quite dead just yet. You’re in… I guess you’d say it’s the waiting area. You’re holding on by a thread, and if you don’t get some gumption and pull yourself together, you’ll be in the main event soon.” 

Husk flinched back from the brightness as he tried to face her once more. “What happened to me? All I remember is the most agonizing backache I’ve ever had, then this.” 

His mother’s face pinched with worry at the question. “The short version is that you hemorrhaged, kiddo. Your cute little husband is a bit too ambitious with his meddling. Near-immortal or not, the body just isn’t made for the kind of strain you two’ve been putting on it. My grandson’s bull-headed and impatient, it seems. Reminds me of someone I know.” She favored him with a wry smile. “Add in the fact that you weren’t really made for this in the first place, and it’s not surprising. You didn’t even take the time to build up to it, did you?” 

Husk squinted and blinked. “…What?” 

“Ya got no baby-pushing muscles, boy!” She accentuated the statement with a light tap to his uncomfortable gut. “You’re going to need help if you’re going to get my grandson out of there and not end up back here... Unless you’re going to just lay down here and give up now.” 

“Never,” Husk vowed, eyes watering. “Ya don’t beat the odds if ya fold too soon in the game!”

His mother laughed, reaching out to draw a gentle hand through the fur atop his head. “Then get your ass up, Miccy. I love you, you stupid boy.” 

Husk wiped at his face with a laugh, pulling his mother into a tight embrace. His heart thundered in his chest at the realization that he might be saying goodbye for her forever. Maybe it was a dream, maybe it was real. All that mattered was that he had been given this opportunity. He couldn’t miss taking advantage of it, now that it had been allotted to him. There was so much still unsaid, and everything was getting painfully bright around him.

“I love you too, Ma. So much. I just... I’m sorry that I’m not with you, but...” 

There was a brief shuffle as each of them attempted to wrap their wings around the other. His mother fussed, scolding him until he gave up and let her envelop him in white feathers. “Oh hon. You have always been my heart. All that matters to me is that you’re happy. You are happy, aren’t you?”

Husk chuckled. “I wasn’t for a long time, but now? Yeah... I’ve got something special now, and it just keeps getting better. Also weirder, but better.” 

”Then that’s more than enough to make me happy as well,” his mother said, brushing a hand across his forehead. She released him as the light around him grew blinding, a laugh in her voice as she spoke. “Don’t take it the wrong way when I tell you to go to Hell then, my heart.”

Husk floundered as he found himself devoid of her warm embrace. She was just out of his grasp, but suddenly felt so far beyond his reach. His eyes were stinging at the light, but he couldn’t look away. “You’ll take care, right?” At her call of affirmation, he shouted again. His voice was shaky with doubt. “Ma? You think I’ve got a chance at this? I want it, but I ain’t really the uh… motherly type, ya know.” 

As everything went white, he could hear her call out. “Oh you’ve got a chance, alright!” 

Back in the small home, hidden below the surface of an inhospitable piece of scrub land on the circle of Pride, nothing moved. Alastor’s eyes burned, but he did not dare blink. If he blinked, the vision before him might vanish, and if that happened, the only thing waiting for him was despair. A high-pitched, garbled keen like an untuned radio searching for a station was the only sound he could make as he stared at the glowing figure standing over him. 

“Chè mwen, you’d best be doing something ‘bout things,” his mother announced, “That’s a lot of blood, an’ ti chat is gonn’ run out sooner or later. We’re lookin’ on the sooner end of later. Ti bebe is gonn’ need someone t’ check up on him too, cheri. You take much longer, it’s gon’ be difficult.” 

“The baby…” Alastor finally repeated after the doe-eared apparition, his mind a whirlwind of fog. “What… What must I do?” 

His mother ran her fingers through his hair once more and smiled. She leaned forward to plant a gentle kiss on Alastor’s forehead, just above the bridge of his nose. If he had gone insane, his mind was doing a truly excellent job with the details. Her eyes, her hair... the way she carried herself, so full of calm confidence... if not for the large ears atop her head and the brilliant glow, he’d think she stepped right out of his memories. He forced himself to pay attention as the apparition spoke again. 

“You know the ways, child. I know I taught them to you. Cobweb to stop the flow of blood. Basil to soothe the inflammation. Feverfew to keep the temperature down. Rosemary for the pain. You know this, cher. Keep your head on your shoulders, hm? Those boys are counting on you.” 

“Y-Yes,” Alastor agreed, determination rising as his voice strengthened. He was going to have to remove the child himself. It would be difficult, but he remembered now: he had planned for this. He could do it. “Will you help me, Maman?” 

She laughed again, and pinched one of his large ears. “Alastor child, you’re not needing help. You’re needing some confidence. Now you pull yourself together and get my grandson born, hear?" 

When Alastor blinked, she was gone and Husker was stirring weakly against his chest. “Al,” the cat demon groaned, “I want this kid out. Now.” 

With a firm nod, Alastor stood, pulling Husk to his unsteady feet once more before guiding him back to the bed. “The sooner the better, now let’s get you situated, my darling. It’s time we met the small one, and I’m going to help.” 

“How th’ fuck d’ya plan to do that?” Husk asked as Alastor magicked away the soiled mattress and bed linens. The Radio Demon settled his doubtful beau back among the elevated cushions that were fluffing into existence at the head of the bed and perched himself more towards the foot. He could do this. He’d planned for a potential disaster like this, and he was prepared to deal with it. 

“Drastic measures. I’m afraid that this is going to hurt a bit, my love. I apologize in advance for the discomfort.”

His shadow flickered into being beside the bed, its face twisted into a grimace. At the sight, Alastor set his own face in a determined grin as he reached for the bundle of equipment and linens it was holding. Turning back to face the confused Husk, he set the items aside. With a deep breath he raised his hands to grasp his husband’s outstretched ones. Placing their palms together, he met Husk’s gaze with a confident smirk. 

“I have a set of lovely magically-enhanced tools that I don’t believe you’re acquainted with, my love!”

“Knock me the fuck out for this bullshit,” Husk retorted with a deadpan glare. “I ain’t staying’ awake for it!”

Half an hour later, Alastor sagged against the freshly-manifested mattress, watching in fascination as his son stared back at him. Husker was dozing peacefully alongside, recovering well from the impromptu surgery. The cat demon was half-curled around the infant, and blissfully unaware of the very serious staring contest happening. If he’d been awake, he’d probably be giving Alastor a smack upside the head, partnered with a complaint that he was going to give the child a complex. 

Alastor was, if he said so himself, an artist with a knife. The supplies of his magically-sealed other-space had included the best tools afforded to a master of his skills and abilities. Other than the blood loss and fatigue, one would not know that the winged demon had just had a tiny life pulled from his abused insides.

As it was, Husker had fallen into an untroubled sleep soon after being revived from the temporary stasis Alastor has placed him in. He’d received the tiny bundle still clasped in his arms with wide, wondering eyes before pretending to take offense at the child. 

“So you’re the little shit that’s been beating up my insides,” he’d complained, squinting at the damp little ball of fur before leaning in and giving the child’s head a hesitant, almost embarrassed lick.The tiny demon had merely stared at him in response, his big eyes a striking combination of Husker’s beautiful gold iris and Alastor’s own blood red sclera. “I got some damned complaints about you,” he’d continued. “I’m too fucking tired to get into it now, but it’s a long damned list so you better be prepared to hear it later.” 

With that, he’d abruptly fallen asleep. Alastor’s mother’s medicinal charm had worked wonders, and the cat demon’s breaths were strong, steady and deep now as he rested. Safe, secure, and completely oblivious as the flop-eared infant and the Radio Demon stared each other down. 

The baby was nothing like any of the many guesses that Alastor had made. He was covered in grey fur that was dappled in white spots like a newborn fawn. Large ears, rather similar in shape to Alastor’s own, were folded against his head. A set of tiny hoof-like digits were at the end of each foot. The tufted tail and pair of pathetically-tiny wings were all Husker’s influence. It was a strange blend of features, but somehow terribly endearing.

Never one to let a good silence fester, Alastor chuckled. “If you’re looking for an apology from me for the signature seal, it’s not forthcoming.” At the side of the child’s head, partially obscured by one of his soft ears, Alastor’s initial glowed softly with fresh magic. He was bound to this tiny being now. It would be difficult to explain so that Husker would accept it, but Alastor would have to try. It was evil that he’d done to the boy, mere minutes old, but it was necessary.

Some strange energy seemed to move in the small creature, some latent power that restlessly stirred in its tiny container as if searching for a way out. This strength, doubtless fueled by Alastor’s own developmental meddling, had been the cause of all the commotion. With it, the impatient new being had nearly torn Husker open. 

The deer demon sighed, stroking the child’s head with a careful hand. His power would keep this energy contained, keep it bound to its host until the tiny being grew strong enough to control it. And if the boy came to spill Husker’s blood intentionally, with the _intent_ to kill... If he became a monster worse than his own father...

Alastor’s fond smile turned bitter at the notion. “I do so adore you, mon petit, but it’s in everyone’s best interest if there’s a failsafe. I’ve been far too careless where you’re concerned, already. I would destroy myself for you, but I will not allow you to destroy your Maman, understand? Surely it’s excessive precaution on my part to even consider the potential, but after today... No. I can’t allow it. I won’t.” 

The tiny ball of fluff threw back its head and yawned. Alastor let out a soft laugh at the display. “Yes, you’re not impressed at all, are you? Perhaps you know too well that it has protections woven into it for you as well.” The demon reached out to run a finger over the mark, causing his shadow to flicker into existence briefly on the wall behind the bed. “It’s a bit of a dual-edged sword, my dear little one. In it are both the best protection that I can give you, and the worst thing I could ever do to you, my child. May neither of us ever need it.” 

The small creature grabbed clumsily at Alastor’s hand as he pulled away, his stubby tail swatting from side to side with the movement. One short leg managed to kick free of Husk’s arm, and the baby abruptly ceased his pursuit of his father’s limb to stare in abject fascination at the new appendage. 

“You are a bit of a strange looking one,” the deer demon chuckled as the infant whined at the uncooperative target at the end of his own leg. “But perhaps you’ll grow into those features in a few years, hm?” Tired from the exertion, the tiny thing turned to burrow its head into Husker’s chest. Alastor stifled a laugh as the quest turned fruitless and the child let out a noise of frustration. Hungry already, it seemed. Just as well that Husk had not been awake for the attempt, Alastor thought as he snickered. 

The baby looked up at that, letting out a strange squawk of a cry that made Alastor’s hearing tingle and prompted Husk’s large ears to twitch backwards. “None of that!” the Radio Demon objected, reaching to pluck the small form from a still-dozing Husker’s arms. “You’ll wake Maman, and he’s cranky first thing in the morning.” 

The tall demon chuckled as the baby calmed. Taking a teasing tone, he cradled the little thing in his arms. “Such a cranky sourpuss, yes. Let us see what we can find for your breakfast, small one. When Maman wakes, we still need to ask him what in the world your name is.” The baby let out a softer chirp of a noise at that, and as he descended the staircase to check the pantry for supplies, the deer demon wondered at how tired he himself was. Now his hearing was playing tricks on him, making him perceive the child’s cry as an oddly discordant double-note. 

But there was no time for thinking of that now, the little thing in his arms was hungry and was certainly going to be needing a change soon, and there were a million more things that needed to be done before he could even think of sitting down to rest. Perhaps some pain perdu for Husker, once he awoke? Hm, it was certainly something to think about. Maybe something more? But first, baby formula, a change, and oh dear, he’d never cleaned up the cornmeal that was all over the kitchen floor, had he? It was going to be a busy morning, that much was certain. 

Hours later, Husk stirred to reluctant wakefulness, perceiving the smell of cooking food and the sound of Alastor’s not-too-distant singing. A stab of worry roused him fully as he realized that the tiny warm bundle he’d fallen asleep with was gone. Scrabbling upright, he tore through the sheets in a frenzy, searching for the missing baby. Before he could make a dive for the floor, Alastor’s shadow appeared beside the bed to fix him with a querulous, skeptical look. 

“The baby,” Husk demanded, wide-eyed and frantic. “Where the Hell’s the baby?” 

The shadow-Al shook its head in a gesture that managed to look long-suffering, and pointed down. 

“Al’s got it?” 

A slow, exaggerated nod. 

“Years,” Husk groaned as he collapsed back against the pillows. “Fucking YEARS off my afterlife, every goddamned day with this shit. Fuck.” He laid there for a moment, letting his pulse return to normal. He felt light-headed, the fatigue from the ordeal of the early morning hours hitting him like a truck. The cat demon closed his eyes and relaxed for a moment, willing the room to stop moving without him. Shit, he was a mess. 

When he felt steady enough, he cautiously made for the side of the bed. Alastor’s shadow was still there watching him, but made no move to pull him upright. In fact, the glaring apparition looked pointedly disapproving. Carefully pulling himself to his feet, Husk made for the winder staircase and began easing his way down towards the sounds and smells of activity. His side and stomach ached and pulled strangely as he moved, evidence of the rapidly re-knit flesh and muscle that weren’t used to functioning yet.

Al’s shadow followed, dark tendrils at the ready in case he was to fall. When he peered around the landing corner, he could see Al lightly bouncing the baby gently in one arm as he stirred a pan of something creamy on the stove. 

“Ah, THERE’S Maman!” Alastor called out, turning to show the child that Husk had made an appearance. “Naughty Maman, sneaking downstairs! You’re supposed to be resting!” The baby fixed Husk with a serious expression, tiny hands reaching towards him. The little thing gave a noise like an odd chirp. 

Exhausted, achy and dizzy or not, Husk was compelled to respond, nearly stumbling as he left the support of the staircase railing. 

Alastor tutted at him, walking over to guide the weak cat demon to the nest of cushions that had once been the bench seat of the dining nook. “Really Husker,” he complained. “You’re in no shape to be up and about like this. Now sit, and stay. Both of you.” He turned his head to fix his shadow with an unimpressed glare. “And you, you’d best ensure that they do this time.” The shadow-Al hung its head in mute apology as Alastor breezed past on his way back to the stove. 

“You’re a bit too early for the food to be ready,” the deer demon continued, checking the large skillet where some peppers, onions, and celery were sautéing. Satisfied, he returned his attention to the saucepan next to it and continued stirring. “I’m afraid I overestimated your recovery time and got a little overly ambitious.” 

“You got over-ambitious,” Husk muttered to himself, brow furrowed as he stared down at the baby. “That’s what Ma…” The demon looked up at Alastor and quieted, dropping his head to stare at the small being in his arms instead. “N-never mind.” 

“Hm?” Alastor prompted, turning his head. “What vexes you, my love?” 

Husk ran his claw-like fingers through the fluff on the child’s head, careful of the soft ears. “I had… I want to say it was a weird dream. While I was bleeding out, I mean. It felt so real, though.” Alastor froze at the reminder of Husk’s limp, bleeding body in his arms. Unaware, Husk continued. “I saw… I saw my Ma. She said you got over-ambitious. Said I was in the seal. Or next to it, anyway. She told me to get my shit together and get her grandson born, and-“ 

His head abruptly shot up, eyes meeting Alastor’s as the Radio Demon stared at him in slack-jawed fixation. The deer demon’s face was ashen, and a soft squeal of feedback came from him. 

“You too…?” Alastor finally managed to squeak out. “I thought… I thought I suffered a… a conniption… a bout of hysterics with hallucinations.” He distractedly turned off the burners of the stove. “I too saw a maternal apparition,” he admitted, dragging a chair over to the island in front of Husk’s nest. “Maman, she chastised me for my panic. She… Reminded me of her sacred teachings.” 

He turned his attention to where the baby was snuggling into Husk’s fluffy chest and making adorable little squeaky noises. “She told me to pull myself together for your sake and the sake of her grandson.” 

“Oh fuck,” Husk muttered to himself. 

Alastor nodded numbly. “As you say, my dearest. Oh fuck, indeed.” 

The duo sat like that for a long moment in silence, staring at each other. “Did we really…” Husk began before recoiling with a twitch. He glared down at the infant that had cuddled against him. “Goddamn it Al, you’d better have food for this kid, because he’s gonna eat me alive if you don’t.” Husk held the child out nearly at arm’s length, fixing the now wide-eyed infant with an angry sneer. “Cut that crap out, you hear me ya little shit? Your dad’s the one in charge of feeding ya, not me.” 

Alastor let out a soft bark of startled laughter at the statement. “And what an image I’d be with a bust,” he chuckled, rising from his seat to rummage in the refrigerator for a prepared bottle. With a quick flourish, he had it in a small saucepan of water heating on the stove. 

Husk sputtered in shock at the notion as he attempted to situate the fussy baby.  
“That ain’t what I meant and you know it, jackass!” 

The Radio Demon merely laughed as he poured a bowl of something that smelled like seafood into the skillet with his sautéed vegetables, pouring the creamy substance of the other pan over the top and giving it a stir. “I merely took the opportunity that you presented me with, Husker.” He shook some cheese and crumbs over the pan before sliding it into the oven. “You should know better. We did live alongside Angel Dust for… how long was it?” 

“Too damned long,” Husk sneered, attempting to rock the complaining infant while also trying not to place the baby against his chest. “Shit. Come on, kid! Gimmie a break, will ya?” The child squealed unhappily, prompting the frustrated demon to give his husband a flustered look. “You know, I’m not even going to ASK what’s in that bottle at this point. The only thing I care about is if it’s ready.” 

Alastor turned from where he was sliding his used pans into the sink with a laugh. After pulling the bottle from the warm water and checking the temperature with a freshly cleaned finger, he nodded in satisfaction. “Merely formula from the store shelf, darling.” He turned off the stove and presented the coveted item with a small bow. “I might have added a few extra vitamins, but…” 

“I just said I didn’t give a shit,” Husk growled, snatching the thing and attempting to introduce it to the whimpering infant. “Quit squirming! I’ll fucking drop you or the bottle if you don’t- Okay there we go.” He gave a sigh of relief as the baby quieted, settling against him to greedily feed. 

For a moment, he and Alastor merely stared at the child in his arms. At last, Husk was compelled to speak again. 

“Boy or girl?” 

“Boy, it appears.” Alastor replied immediately. “It seems our… hallucinations, visitors… whatever you’d like to call them.. They were both right about that.” 

Husk hummed softly in acknowledgement. “I say visitors. I don’t think my soul could take the notion that we both imagined getting to see our moms again.” 

Alastor nodded. “It does seem rather coincidental that we would, doesn’t it? Either way, it was help we both needed.” 

They lapsed into silence again, watching as the baby lost interest in the food in favor of cuddling back into the soft fur of Husk’s chest and falling asleep. Putting the bottle aside, Husk carefully settled back against the cushions. 

“Al?” 

“Darling?” 

“We made a kid,” Husk muttered, giving a soft laugh at the notion. “We made a damned kid. Literally damned, I guess. You know, Hell and all.” 

Alastor chuckled at that, leaning on the island surface to grin lazily at his husband. “A mere technicality, dearest. Pay it no mind. There is something I’ve been wondering, though.” 

When Husk looked up at him, Alastor nodded at the child. “Have you decided upon a name? You should be the one to bestow our son’s moniker.” 

Husk blinked, apparently surprised at the idea that he’d be the one determining such a thing. For a moment, he looked lost as he considered the many possibilities. Sure, he’d thought about the idea a little, but none of the notions he’d considered before seemed fitting now. At last, he smirked, eyes sparkling with some private amusement.

“Chance,” he announced, drawing a clawed thumb across the baby’s tiny head. “His name’s Chance.” 

Alastor cocked his head to the side, obviously waiting for an explanation. Husk chuckled. 

“Call it a little joke between me and Ma,” he grinned, nuzzling the side of the baby’s head. “Maybe believing in seeing her that strongly… Well, maybe it’ll make the notion it actually happened more real.” 

The Radio Demon gave the idea a thoughtful nod. “Chance it is,” he agreed. “It feels fitting, somehow. After the past 72 hours, I must admit that there were times I thought our odds of success were rather poor.” 

Husk’s head popped up at that, a serious expression now on his face. “Oh shit, I just remembered. I think I may have promised Lucifer that Charlie could be the kid’s godmother for talking you down from your rage fit or whatever. Fucker kept talking and talking after taking me to the old hotel, and I could barely focus on anything but worrying about you and the kid… I don’t know if he was trying to be funny or if he was serious about it, but-!” 

Alastor’s eyes were wide at the notion for a moment, but he relaxed with a quiet laugh. “Well, why not? I suppose that we should pop around at some point and introduce them, then. I do have an errand I am due to complete soon at the palace, anyway.” He massaged one hand with the other. “Perhaps in a few days, once I’m back at full strength and you’ve recovered a bit, my dear. We’ll swing in and make a grand production of it! Hell’s first artificially-forged demon, a modern miracle for non-believers! This is how cults get started you know, Husker!” 

Husk’s amused expression soured as he squinted at the child’s face, turning his head and brushing at the fluff around one soft ear. “Why the FUCK is your initial on our kid’s head, Al? Did you put a hex on him already?” 

Alastor flinched. He’d hoped for more time before having this conversation. “A mere precaution, darling.” 

“What does it do?” Husk’s tone brooked absolutely no nonsense. When Alastor hesitated, the cat demon hissed, pulling the infant to his chest protectively. “Alastor, you fucker, what the shit did you do?” 

“It’s for your own good, Husker.” Now the irate cat chimera was truly furious, pulling away as if to shield the child from Alastor’s influence. 

“I’ll be the fucking judge of that. Now what does it do?” 

The Radio Demon stared at his hands for a moment. It was time to come clean about what he’d done, and he did not relish the conversation. “It serves multiple purposes. It controls the boys energy until he can do so himself, binds my shadow to the boy in protection and… there is more. It is also a method for remote destruction.” 

Husk’s eyes blew wide at the information. His hackles rose, large wings struggling to rise from his back as he growled in outrage. “Why the FUCK would you put a magic bomb on the kids head?” When his husband hesitated to answer, Husk’s growl escalated to a vicious snarl. “ALASTOR! WHY?” 

“Because I refuse to lose you!” Alastor snapped, fingers digging into the wooden surface between them. The two bared their teeth at each other in furious snarls. Alastor’s voice was a crackle of static-riddled fury.

“I would dearly love to believe that there is no cause for concern, my darling Husker. I have bound part of my own power to the child to protect him from all others. I pray that this is merely an excessive bit of precaution on my part, fueled by too much grief in too little order! However, I am no longer willing to turn a blind eye to potential threats to your well-being, even if that threat could potentially be our own child. You may hate me. I will be grieved, but I can make do with that. What I cannot make do with is an existence where you are killed once again by my ignorant folly.” 

The cat demon kept his wings raised, although the straining muscles of his weak body were beginning to shake. “Why would our own kid be a threat to me, Alastor?!” 

“I don’t know!” the Radio Demon shouted, his voice tinny with feedback. “I don’t know why it could happen, but our child could easily grow in strength until they could overpower and eliminate you! Unborn, he nearly tore you apart! Who knows what... follies of mine that the boy will inherit or imitate? I’ve nearly killed you twice in as many days, my dearest love! I don’t even trust MYSELF without a breaking rune now, how could I trust the stranger that I’ve only just met!?” 

The baby, awakened by the noise, began to wail loudly. The sound echoed strangely in the small kitchen, and Husk’s large ears flattened in response. Alastor lunged forward, snatching the child from his husband. Husk clamped his hands over his ringing ears, watching in bafflement as Alastor half-lectured, half-soothed the screaming infant. His shadow hovered between them, attempting to watch over both the child and Husk simultaneously. 

Once the cries quieted, the deer demon fell heavily into his chair. There was something strange about his left sleeve. Husk stared at the odd redness he could make out on Alastor’s clothed arm. Jumping to his feet, he grabbed at his husband’s sleeve, slashing open the fabric to reveal the limb beneath. Alastor’s sigil glowed faintly back at him, precisely where Husk’s teeth had been mere days before. 

“The fuck is that?” he asked softly, no strength or venom behind the words any more. “You… you really did it to yourself too, didn’t you?” 

Alastor managed a wan smile. “If he goes, he takes me with him,” he admitted softly. 

Husk let out a soft huff of horrified resignation. “What the fuck, Al. What the actual fuck.” He sank back into his own seat with wide eyes. “Shit. You’re serious about this, huh?” 

The radio demon looked exceptionally tired as he smiled down at the infant in his arms. “As I said before, I cannot bear to lose you again. That said, I also cannot bear to lose this one.” The baby stared up at Alastor with large eyes, engrossed in reaching for the Radio Demon’s black-tipped hair. “If I fail him, if he becomes a creature who would intentionally murder you? Then if I must destroy him, I’m content to destroy myself as well.” 

“You talk like it’d be final,” Husk hissed softly, staring at the baby now as well. 

“It would be,” Alastor agreed mildly. “Courtesy of the properties of a certain one of the ingredients used in his conception. I can think of nothing short of permanent destruction of yourself that would compel me to use the thing. If that happens, well...” He raised his tired gaze to meet Husk’s, the heavy tears in his eyes shining in the light of the warm kitchen. “If I am such a failure to you both that such events come to pass, then it’s only fitting that we all go together, whatever the fate is that awaits severed souls.” 

Husk shook his head with a groan. “Fuck it all, Al. Only you could take a murder-suicide and actually make it sound kind of touching.” 

The Radio Demon laughed, brushing his fingers through the child’s ear fluff. “If you say so, my dearest. I’m afraid I only find the concept horrific, both in theory and concept.” 

Husk reached out an arm towards his husband. “C’mere,” he insisted. “It’s kinda lonely way over here by myself, you know?” Alastor immediately bounced to his feet, hurrying to push his way into the nest of cushions and pillows alongside the amused cat demon. Once they were sufficiently snuggled together, the baby cradled across their laps, Husk let out a long sigh that rumbled at the end with a purr. 

“You know, I seem to recall someone saying awhile back, that it didn’t matter so much if there were missteps along the way, that we’d love enough to make up for any of them,” he muttered as he leaned against Alastor’s shoulder. The deer demon himself stiffened at the reminder. “Y’know, I think I have to believe in that,” Husk continued, relaxing against his husband with an exhausted yawn.

“I think I get what you were thinking. It’s a horrible idea, but shit we’ve had nothing but worst-case scenarios up til now, haven’t we? Well, we won’t need it. Not for that. We ain’t letting the kid grow into the incarnation of your goddamned nightmares or whatever, Al. He’s ours, part of both of us, you know? And we’ll make sure that he grows up knowing that he’s the _best_ parts of both of us, born into Hell or not. Now stop beating yourself up.” He turned his head to plant a quick kiss on Alastor’s stunned cheek. “When you hurt yourself, you hurt me, understand?” 

“I don’t,” Alastor admitted softly. “But I will try, Husker. I will try.” 

The oven timer chose that moment to ding brightly. Alastor waved his shadow towards the offending appliance with a mutter of “Take care of that, won’t you? I’m a bit indisposed at the moment.”


	8. The Price

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is always a price to pay, when one wants a miracle.

Several weeks later, Rosie was surprised to find herself as the first guest to meet the new addition to the family. 

Surprised by an impromptu visit by an enthusiastic Alastor, she found herself being entreated to abandon her business for a few hours. With Al’s effusive insistence, she was brought along on his arm as he teleported them to the tiny, secreted-away subterranean home.

The place had grown slightly since the first days of its creation. It now boasted larger rooms, more furniture, and the patchwork nature of the space had healed over into a more cohesive whole. A few small touches of the colorful bungalow Alastor and Husk had shared were scattered here and there in the decor, but the residence was by and large a unique place. 

Husk was waiting in the small sitting room area in front of the kitchen bar when Alastor and Rosie arrived, holding a small ball of diaper-clad grey fluff. Rosie gasped when the cat demon turned the child to face her, and in a serious voice announced “Chance, this is your Auntie Rosie.” At her hesitant nod, he passed young Chance over to the astonished demoness. 

“I’m embarrassed that I didn’t have a gift ready when Alastor arrived to spirit me away,” she admitted, smiling softly at the enthralled infant. “I’ve commissioned something from a particular artisan of my acquaintance, and it’s not due until the end of the week. I’ll send it along as soon as I can.” 

Husk seemed to struggle with what to say to that at first, finally settling on a gruff “That’s very nice of you. Thanks.” 

Alastor threw an arm around the cat demon’s shoulders, pulling him into a fond embrace as he laughed. “Why Maman, that was positively genteel! If you’re this decorous when we rejoin society, demons will think you an impostor!” 

Husk was immediately all bristled feathers and spitting fury, much to his audience’s amusement. “I’m NOT Mama! Goddamn it, Al! An’ I’ll have you know that I GOT manners, I just can’t be assed for most people!” 

“There’s my darling Husker!” Alastor cheered, squeezing his annoyed beau against himself. 

Rosie let out a shaky laugh as she held the small child in her arms. “I’m gratified to know that I have made the cut for your consideration,” she admitted. “I’m honored, truly I am.” 

Husk seemed to fluster at that, looking away and crossing his arms over his chest. “Yeah well… you’re welcome, I guess.” Under his breath, and most likely not intending it to be heard, he muttered to himself. “Fuck, I’m no good at this polite shit.” 

Rosie laughed aloud at the admission, prompting Alastor to chuckle along. Chance’s eyes focused on her pearl necklace, and she preemptively shifted her hold to move him further from the intriguing new item. “Now Alastor, mustn’t tease someone who’s doing their best. And Husk my dear, don’t feel you must put up a front for my sake. I’d be insulted if you were anything other than yourself.”

With that, Rosie passed the baby back to Husk as Chance clumsily attempted to grab for the necklace. “None of that, now,” she gently scolded, smiling at the transfixed expression on the child’s face as he was pulled out of range. “He’s quite the curious little explorer, isn’t he?”

Little Chance made an inquisitive noise before suddenly turning shy and scrabbling for Husk’s shoulder. To Rosie’s immense shock, Husk nudged Alastor’s arm from around him and abruptly tucked the child away inside of his left wing. The infant disappeared into the embrace of the red feathers furled tightly against his back.

“Well!” she gasped with a breathless little laugh. “I can’t say that I was expecting that!” 

Alastor gave an amused bark at her expression. “I don’t know when Husker picked up that trick, but it’s marvelous, isn’t it? A regular disappearing act! One wonders if he’ll pull young Chance from his hat next!” 

Husk scoffed, muttering that he’d do it at some point just to show the wiseass a thing or two. 

Rosie primly seated herself onto the red upholstery of the bentwood rocking chair in the corner. A Jules Leleu-styled loveseat in a complementary fabric sat adjacent to her chosen perch. A small center table with a shiny black lacquer finish rested on an arched base in front of the seating. The makeshift parlor was cozy. Intimate, even. 

Husk followed her lead, moving to the loveseat and settling in as Alastor strode quickly around to the large refrigerator. He did so delight in playing host, Rosie recalled, watching as the deer demon quickly pulled a large pitcher from the frosty depths of the magical storage unit.

“If you’re entertaining already, you must be nearing the time you’ll be rejoining society,” the demoness speculated.

Alastor conjured glasses filled with ice into his free hand as he returned, presenting Rosie and Husk each with a serving of sweet, lemony iced tea with a soft floral scent. Husk rolled his eyes at the offering, grumbling about the nature of the concoction. 

“We will at some point, yes,” Alastor agreed with his colleague, pointedly ignoring Husk’s annoyance with the alcohol-free drink. “We’ve yet to decide when we’ll feel comfortable enough to make it permanent, but in all likelihood it will be a while until we’re hitting on all eight once more. This was just a bit of a special occasion, you see. A break from the new normal, if you will.” 

“We’re gonna get sick of only seeing each other, sooner or later,” Husk put in, grimacing at the scent of his drink. “Al, is that fucking flower water shit in this?” 

“Ha!” Alastor burst out, slapping a hand on his thigh. “Oh Husker, you slay me! And it’s rose water, darling! It’s good for you!” 

“It smells like a perfume shop crawled in my glass and died,” the cat demon grumbled. His nose wrinkled in distaste at the liquid as he set the drink aside. He gave a little jolt as he set the glass down, craning his head back over his shoulder. “Oi! And I told you to quit kicking me, ya little shit!” he growled at his wing, which seemed to shift of its own accord. 

After a moment, the appendage lifted slightly, and the infant’s curious face pushed into view. With wide red and gold eyes, he stared back at Rosie, who struggled to contain her laughter. 

“Well, you’ll have to put in an appearance soon to dispel a few of the rumors, Alastor. There are quite a few tales being told about what happened that day. The disappearance of Vox, yourself, a number of minor, but ambitious overlords; and all of it on the heels of the news about yourself and dear Husk? Well, let it never be said that Hell isn’t home to an imaginative bunch. It’s not so much a rumor mill at this point as it is a factory.” 

Husk’s ears perked, and he leaned forward at the news. “Yeah? What are they saying?” 

“Oh it’s a spectrum of speculation,” Rosie laughed, one hand waving over her head as if she were chasing away insects. “One particularly gruesome one is that Alastor turned into a monstrous creature after falling victim to madness borne of his experimental meddling, devouring all of the missing - including yourself, Husk- and then burrowing down to Greed, somehow. My personal favorite states that Lucifer smote all of you because your spat interrupted his favorite hellivision program.” Husk snorted in appreciation for that one, even as Alastor continued to scoff at the first.

“There is yet another, which suggests that somehow the two of you fused and the result was Alastor’s berserker form. That one claims Princess Charlotte was forced to slay the amalgamation of you three with an angel weapon.” 

Husk’s expression twisted, and he reached for his drink. “Fucking hell, people are stupid,” he grumbled. Alastor’s grinning expression went blank at the notion of eating his husband, and the faint test tone that he began to emit was only broken when the final rumor startled him into a full-body shudder. 

“Fusion?” He sputtered, physically collapsing into the loveseat beside Husk, who shuffled over enough to pull a stainless steel flask from inside his right wing. With a pointedly unimpressed glare, he poured a large measure into his glass and took a deep drink. After a moment of staring at Alastor’s horror-struck face, he refilled the glass with a straight shot of whiskey and stuck it in the deer demon’s hand. 

“Drink that,” he suggested, taking the pitcher of lemonade from his husband and setting it aside on the table. “You’ll feel better.” 

Alastor took a sip mechanically. “It’s not helping,” he complained. 

“If you’re beyond bourbon’s help, I don’t know what else we can do for you. It’s desperate measures, I guess,” Husk shrugged before leaning to his right, relaxing his left wing so that it was no longer holding the baby in place. With a squeak of surprise, Chance was deposited on the seat between them. Alastor immediately seized the child, holding him up to fix him with a stern, shallow-smiled glare. 

“You’re NOT to grow up to be one of those… fiendish gossip-mongers, child. Understand? I will not stand for it.” He fumed as the baby blew a spit bubble at him, unconcerned. “I mean it! I expect far better from you!” Alastor continued, earning a snort of amusement from Husk. 

“He’s YOUR kid, Al. He ain’t gonna give a shit what you expect,” the cat demon laughed before retrieving the boy, who’d begun trying to kick at his father. “C’mere, ya Bambi-faced little monster.” 

Rosie cocked her head to the side, watching the baby squeal happily at being back in Husk’s arms. “He is a rather sweet little thing, isn’t he?” she asked with a gentle smile. Husk nodded, an almost-regretful look pulling at his features. “It almost seems a shame, don’t it? An innocent little gremlin like this, born straight into damnation.” 

“Innocent?! He BIT me just this morning!” Alastor interrupted, freshly incensed at the memory. He pointed an accusing finger at the child, who readily opened his mouth at the gesture. Husk turned his head to give the Radio Demon an annoyed look. “He doesn’t even have TEETH yet, Al! Get over yourself.” 

“Perhaps he’s inherited your particular tastes, Alastor?” Rosie teased, getting a sour-faced glance from the deer demon for the comment. Husk gave a hearty guffaw at the statement and the response, falling backwards into the cushions. 

“Ah, shit! Shit, okay that got me,” he chortled. “Kid, so long as ya don’t take a bite out of me, I ain’t even gonna be mad.” Beside him, Alastor gave an unimpressed huff.

Rosie sobered a bit, daintily sipping her aromatic drink as she watched the child and his parents. “This will be an enormous upheaval, Alastor. I wonder if you’ve realized exactly how big the reaction will be once your little one makes his first appearance.” She locked eyes with the curious baby, who was craning his head to stare at her again. “And he’s so strong, already. Holding his own head up, movements with a sense of purpose… He’ll be such a shock for so many reasons, once he’s been seen.” 

“What, you’re saying that this is... unusual?” Husk asked, giving Chance a startled look. “I thought he was pretty… well, I guess normal’s not the word, but average, maybe?” The baby left off of staring at Rosie to peer back at Alastor, who’d straightened with a flinch. 

“How many newborns have you two been around?” the demoness asked bluntly, tutting at the sheepish glances the boys gave her in response. “That’s what I thought. Even a hellborn native is completely helpless for the first month,” she explained. Chance wheeled his head around to stare back at her, earning a soft laugh of disbelief. “One would almost believe that he knows we’re talking about him,” Rosie observed. “Quite remarkable.” 

“Well,” Alastor put in, straightening his shoulders with a broad grin that only seemed a little forced. “Chance is our son, after all! Eh, Husker?” He elbowed the cat demon sharply, smile flickering when he realized that his husband and child were gazing intently at each other. 

“Fuck, we’d better not have screwed this kid up already,” Husk finally sighed after a long silence. He ran a hand over the child’s head, a crooked smirk pulling at his lips when Chance made a new noise of delight at the contact. The baby immediately reached for the hand, pulling it to his face and inspecting the deadly claws with keen interest. 

“Careful, you’ll put your eye out, kid,” Husk grumbled, turning the appendage so that the sharp points were angled away from the child’s face. “So do we do this sooner, rather than later? It occurs to me that the longer we wait, the more profound the difference is going to be.” 

Alastor shifted, reaching over to poke a finger at one of the tufted ears on top of the child’s head. The things had straightened, now standing upright instead of curling down in soft folds along the sides of the baby’s skull. “I don’t favor the notion,” he sighed, “but I suppose that you are quite correct. This is undoubtedly the result of my developmental meddling. Small favors that thus far he’s only gaining in strength, not size. We will have to put in an appearance at the palace, you realize?” 

“We’ve been putting off introducing the little shit to his godmother long enough, I guess,” Husk shrugged. 

It was only two days later that Husk found himself lingering next to Alastor outside of the large golden double doors of the Pentagram Palace throne room. His wings were clenched tightly against his back as he stuck close to his husband. His hazy memories of his last visit were screeching in his head, and the annoyed whines from the occupant of one wing in particular had his ears twitching. As if he needed more anxiety cues scratching at his nerves. Great. 

Shit, was it too late to call this whole thing off? Maybe he could claim a bout of lightheadedness and Al would just whisk him and the kid home? The final dose of restoral elixir that Alastor had given him after deeming him healed enough to tolerate the stuff had made him loopy and weak yesterday. That was a good excuse, right?

He eyed the frieze above the doorway doubtfully. Adam and Eve falling into temptation, a massive serpent arching over the pair. The snake was big enough to swallow the tiny mortals whole, Husk thought with a shudder. Poor ignorant fools, they’d never had a prayer, had they?

The few imps and demons loitering in the halls stared pointedly at the duo as they waited. The cat chimera had never felt such scrutiny. The stares from the shopping trip to Rosie’s felt like nothing in comparison. Husk felt like a lobster in a restaurant fish tank. He didn’t remember any of these faces from his last visit, but clearly some of the spectators remembered him. As he’d told Al, his clearest memory of that ordeal was after Vox and his cohorts had been disposed of. That didn’t mean he didn’t have faint recollections of whispers and goggle-eyed stares, though. 

“Alastor! Husk!” 

He jumped as Charlie’s voice shouted at them both. The princess of Hell appeared in the hall, running forward with her arms open as if to grab them both in a big hug. It was the kind of rushing, delighted gesture of tremendous emotion that a film would put a sweeping, grandiose soundtrack behind. Alastor neatly teleported them both just out of the way, letting the princess fruitlessly grab at thin air. 

“Sorry dear, but mind the six foot rule!” Alastor chuckled, shrugging in the face of her look of mild annoyance. 

“I’m going to get you both one of these days, Al!” she vowed with a chuckle. “Just wait and see!” The Radio Demon merely hummed in response, looking smug and skeptical. 

Deprived of a reaction from Alastor, Charlie turned her attention on the wide-eyed cat demon shadowing him. “Husk, it’s so good to see you! You look great!” she squealed, leaning into his personal space with a wide, sparkling smile. “I’ve been super-worried about you, you know? Oooh, did you bring the baby? Dad said you were going to bring the baby!” 

Before Husk could reply to any of that, Chance let out a new cheep of annoyance with his isolation, drawing the princess’ attention to Husk’s tightly-furled wings. The princess zeroed in on the sound like an apex predator on the hunt for snuggles. “You’ve got the baby hidden in your wing?” she gasped, nearly hopping up and down with anticipation. “Oh! Come on, can I see? Pleeeeease, Husk! I just gotta see!” 

The cat demon gave a groan of worry as more faces full of anticipation turned their way. Shit, he really didn’t want to pull the kid out here in the middle of all these randoms in an open hallway.

Alastor cleared his throat and stepped forward just enough so that his shoulder was between Husk and Charlie. “Well we’d LOVE for you to meet the new addition of COURSE, my dear! But you’ll pardon a couple of showmen for wanting to do the big reveal properly and to the full audience, won’t you?” He manifested his cane and twirled it around his wrist with a flourish. 

Delighted, Charlie gave a fervent nod. “OMIGOSH! Yes! I totally get it, Al! Agh, sorry I’m all over the place right now but I’m just SO excited to see you guys are okay!” 

Husk hesitantly reached a hand towards the princess, letting his head hang a bit in embarrassment. “Yeah we uh… We didn’t look so great last time, did we? Um, listen Charlie, about that…” 

Charlie seized his limb in a deathgrip, beaming back at him with a smile so bright, he flinched from the gleaming brilliance. There were actual tears shining in her eyes, he noted as she spoke. “I mean it. That whole mess was horrible, and then you guys just disappeared! No one had seen or heard from either of you until Alastor sent Dad a message asking for an audience a couple of days ago.” The princess’ smile wobbled. “I really have been super-worried. About both of you,” she added with a quick glance in Alastor’s direction. “I guess I kind of consider us all friends, you know?” 

“Ah shit,” Husk complained, reaching for the young demoness. “C’mere, for fuck’s sake, c’mere.” He pulled her into a quick hug and pointedly looked away when she wiped the back of a hand across her face. Shifting uncomfortably, he fixed his gaze on the floor as the princess gave his shoulders a squeeze. “Sorry we didn’t reach out sooner,” he muttered gruffly. “We owe you a lot, kid.” 

Alastor laid a cautious hand on the one that was on Husk’s shoulder, before opening his mouth to say something placating. 

“Oh now THIS is just the sweetest thing since sugar got cubed!” 

The trio jumped in surprise at Lucifer’s voice. The group turned in unison to gape at him as he hung onto the open door of the throne room. The fallen angel was leaning out of the door, nearly swinging on the frame. He chuckled to himself at their expressions of incredulousness (Charlie), mild horror (Husk), and widely-grinning shock (Alastor). “Aw now don’t take on like that! You can’t be THAT surprised to see me.” Standing upright again, he gave a small pout. “I live here, after all. Everyone knows it.” 

Throwing on his bright grin again, he stepped backwards, waving the group of them into the throne room with a grand gesture. “And I was under the impression that you might have been coming to see me!” 

Charlie recovered first, giving her father a good-natured eye roll and a laugh. “Don’t be jealous, Dad. Green’s not flattering on you, and you know it.” Lucifer snickered at the comment as the little group entered. Alastor brought up the rear of the procession, one arm around Husk’s tense shoulder. The cat demon’s eyes were flicking around the room anxiously, his tail twitching as he looked for any potential threat. 

“I’m afraid you’ve missed Lil, she’s back out on the road again for some shindig or another,” Lucifer continued, letting Charlie lead the way through the room and to a small door just off the dias. At his nod, she opened the door and shouted for the others to follow. The cozy sitting room that waited on the other side was furnished with plush white chairs and ornately sculpted walls that had been painted a soft grey color. The thick carpet was a pale off-white, and sinfully soft beneath Husk’s feet. He relaxed as the door closed behind them. This place, it felt almost as safe as home did. 

“Hope you don’t mind, but I thought that a little change of scenery would be a good idea,” Charlie admitted, brushing her hair back over her shoulder. “It’s really secure here. Only dad, mom or I can open the way into this room.” She gave an embarrassed grin before adding “It was my nursery when I was a baby.” 

Alastor looked around with interest, noting a few muted paintings of foggy pastel landscapes hanging on the walls and the rich upholstery of the seating. “Oh, this is splendidly cozy! Husker, bring out our son so that everyone can get acquainted! This is a special occasion, marking a special event!” 

The group seated themselves, Charlie and her father wearing near-identical looks of excitement. Husk took a deep breath and nodded, reaching up to remove his top hat. “Nothin’ up my sleeve,” he announced, pretending to straighten the sleeves of an imaginary jacket. “So without further ado, here...” His left wing was empty when he dramatically snapped it open. “No, wait... must have been the other one...” The right wing swept wide, and Alastor jumped in surprise. This wing was empty as well. “Huh,” Husk muttered, looking thoughtful. “Well, guess there’s not going to be a show, after all. Sorry, folks.”

With an apologetic shrug, he passed his hat to Charlie. The princess accepted the item with a confused tilt of her head. “Wait, where did...?” The princess gasped as something popped up from inside of the satin-lined topper. The tiny demon infant made a surprised noise at the sight of her “OMIGOSH!” she shrieked in delight. “HE’S SO CUTE!” 

Alastor did a confused double-take between the hat and Husk’s wings, which had relaxed as the cat demon took a seat in one of the offered chairs. “HA!” he crowed, slapping a hand to his forehead. “You really did it, didn’t you? Frightened the daylights out of me, I swear! I didn’t even see you move him! Pulling a baby out of a hat, what next?” 

Charlie carefully pulled the small, fluffy infant from his prison, softly squealing at the tiny diaper-clad creature. Lucifer was laughing along with Alastor at the stunt, giving Husk an appreciative nod. 

Chance’s large eyes widened as he looked back and forth between the excited demons. A wary look back over his shoulder at his parents seemed to be the only reaction he was prepared to give the royal family. 

“Oh and he’s got little wings!” Charlie squealed, gently brushing a finger across one of the tiny appendages on his back. Chance immediately turned back to face her, a soft whine building in his throat. 

Husk groaned at the sound. “Oh for fuck’s sake, don’t start crying, kid. It’s a small room and you’ve got big lungs!” 

Lucifer startled everyone when he suddenly plucked the child up from his daughter’s lap, startling the baby from his impending sobs. “Oh not to worry, I’m an old hand at this, boys.” The lord of the underworld cradled the baby expertly in one arm as he lectured. “Now,” he prompted with a broad grin, “What’s the tyke’s name?” Husk wavered uncertainly at the sight of his helpless child in the grasp of the most powerful being in all of Hell. The image of Adam and Eve from the doorway frieze flashed to his mind.

“Husker has named him Chance,” Alastor supplied readily. “Apologies for his rough attire, but Husker wouldn’t allow me to put a tie on him…” 

“Because the little shit would figure out a way to either strangle himself or get it in his mouth and choke!” Husk retorted, coming out of his daze with an impatient glare. “Honestly, it’s like you’ve got no damned sense at times.” 

“Oh, not to worry,” Lucifer chuckled as he brushed a hand over the spotted fur atop the child’s head. “I do hope that the fact you brought the precious little guy to meet us means that you’ve given my suggestion some thought though.” He leveled a serious gaze in Husk’s direction, and the cat demon suppressed a shudder at the intensity of it before nodding, hands clenched together in a nervous clasp. “Well… yes. Um, if you were serious in asking, I uh- Well that is…” He straightened suddenly, raising his head and daring look the king of Hell directly in the eyes before facing Charlie. If he was doing this, he wasn’t doing it while flinching away from the lord of Hell like a jackass.

Looking at the confused heiress to the throne of Hell was hardly better. The princess was glancing back and forth between Lucifer and Husk like she expected a tennis match to break out. Husk took a deep breath. “Charlie, listen. If you’d accept, we... That is, Al and I would uh…” 

Alastor interrupted the verbal flailing with a soft chuckle. “We’d be happy to have you as Chance’s godmother.” 

Charlie made a high-pitched shriek of delight and flung herself at the Radio Demon, catching him off guard with a tight hug. “Omigosh yes! Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Alastor’s face was frozen in a shocked terror-grin at the unsolicited contact, and a faint squeal of feedback came from him. Husk’s gravelly laughter was the only thing that kept Charlie from panicking at the sounds once she registered them. 

Husk snickered as his husband struggled to pull himself together. “Don’t make such a fuss, Al. She told you that she was going to get you eventually!” Husk chortled. “Gotta admit that I didn’t think it would happen this quick, though!” 

Charlie quickly released the distressed demon, offering him an apologetic grin before scurrying over to her dad. Alastor gave a soft flutter of a chuckle as he regained his scattered wits. “Yes, well I suppose that’s what I get for letting my guard down.” He looked up just in time to see Charlie whisper something to her dad and, after receiving a nod she darted from the room before Alastor or Husk could blink. A call of “Be right back!” punctuated her exit. 

Chance gave an uncertain noise at the hasty retreat, turning his head to look at Husk. One tiny, chubby hand reached towards the cat demon hesitantly. “Looks like someone’s ready to go back to… uh…” Lucifer hesitated, brow furrowed. “Say, what is your official title?” 

“Husker is Maman, and I am Papa,” Alastor announced with a grin as he reached to receive the now-squirming infant. 

“I am NOT-! Okay, you know what, fuck you,” Husk complained, crossing his arms and sticking his nose in the air. “You’re Fùqīn if you’re anything.” Alastor’s broad smile flickered as he tried to parse the term. In his arms, Chance gave another complaining noise as he reached for Husk’s person. 

“I am… unfamiliar with that term?” Alastor commented, the sentence turning into a question as he voiced it. “What does that mean, Husker?” 

“It’s what you are,” was the unhelpful answer from the aloof cat demon. A flick of his tail announced how done he was with the topic. “Gimmie the kid, I’ll put him to bed. Looks like he needs a nap.” 

In the Radio Demon’s arms, Chance began to whine, still reaching for Husk. “Kid’s met more people today than he even knew existed,” Husk commented, obliging the child by reaching for him. The baby readily latched onto Husk’s arms as he was picked up, burying his face in the cat demon’s chest and whimpering as he rubbed at his face. 

“Finally got overstimulated, didn’t you, ya little shit?” Husk sighed, rocking the complaining baby in his arms. “He’s a scary thing sometimes,” Husk muttered, carding his long claws through the child’s ear fluff. “Wide awake one minute, then so tired he’s mad he exists the next.” Chance’s whines began to keen into something louder, prompting the cat demon to stand and sway back and forth. “C’mon, pipe down, kid.” 

Chance’s response was to let out an actual wail, muffled by the fur of Husk’s chest. “Okay, okay… gimmie a moment, here…” Husk muttered, crossing the room to the far corner, humming for a moment before softly beginning to sing to the fussy child. “Hello darkness, my old friend… I’ve come to talk with you again…” 

Lucifer turned an amused glance in Alastor’s direction. “Now that’s an interesting choice of lullaby, I must say.” 

The Radio Demon gave a soft huff of agreement as the two of them looked back at the scene. “It’s the only song we’ve much success soothing him with. We’ve tried all the old standbys, and nothing else is nearly so successful. Not even Dodo ti Pitit Manman! My own maman had such success with that one that I thought it unbeatable!” 

Husk left off singing the actual verses of his tune to lecture Alastor in the same tone and cadence of the song he’d been crooning. “Alastor, you’ll give the kid… a complex about crabs you shit…” he sang before returning to the proper lyrics of his chosen tune. The baby sighed, quieting as he relaxed in Husk’s arms. 

Alastor’s nose wrinkled in annoyance at the bit of freestyling. “You’re not even doing it right!” he complained. “Honestly, have some pride in your craft, Husker!” Husk continued singing, but raised a single digit in Alastor’s direction as he did. 

Lucifer muffled a giggle with his hand. “Less about the lyrics and more about whatever the tone and tune is, I suppose!” he commented. “Charlie was very fond of a riff I did on London Bridge that was about the Blitz.” His gleeful expression sobered a bit as he continued. “Well, until she was old enough to understand the words I was singing, at least.” 

Some time later, Charlie opened the door of the sitting room and froze in place behind the occupied seats. Her father and Alastor were intently watching the sleeping baby held in Husk’s arms as the cat demon dozed. Slumped against the side of his chair, Husk muttered something softly in his sleep. Chance gave a soft noise, perhaps in response, and pushed his face against his exhausted parent. The side of Husk’s hand was in the baby’s mouth, and every so often the child would gnaw or suck at it. The princess hesitated, surprised by the quiet atmosphere in the room. 

“Really, they’re both prone to those sudden energy drops,” Alastor admitted softly, tone uncharacteristically serious. “If for young Chance it’s because he’s incapable of regulating his energy level yet, then perhaps it’s the same for Husker. Failure to maintain it in the wake of over-exertion, perhaps? Something to keep in mind, with that.” He handed over a glowing vial of a multicolored liquid that Charlie’s father accepted with a studious expression. “That edition of the formula does not include the accelerant, in light of the not-insignificant risks it caused. It’s my fault for not testing them rigorously enough before we tried it. Husker’s mother said that I got overly-ambitious…” 

The Radio Demon trailed off as Lucifer’s brow rose expectantly. The silence weighed heavily between the two as Charlie watched. The look her dad was giving the Radio Demon was the one that always meant trouble was soon coming your way. At the look, Alastor hastened to explain. “Well, that is- Husker had a… a sort of dream, perhaps? His mother complained that my reach had exceeded the grasp that he was capable of.” Adopting a lopsided grin, he shrugged. “I had a bit of a hallucination, myself. We were all a bit hysterical at the time. He thinks he was in the seal.” With a chuckle, he pointed towards the ceiling. 

Charlie’s eyes widened at the comment. 

Lucifer’s warning glare fell. “Oh,” he muttered softly. “Alastor, that’s pretty serious. If you boys got visitors? That’s some pretty high-level meddling. Practically unheard-of, I’d say. Hm... I wonder who’s behind it? And what did it cost?” 

Alastor’s ever-present grin faded into a shaky frown at the speculation. “You believe it was truly real, then? That we…” He swallowed roughly. “We actually saw our mothers?” 

Lucifer smiled thoughtfully, holding the vial of opalescent liquid up to the light and inspecting it. “A Heaven-bound soul is luminous. Bright and pure as new snow in sunlight. Did the vision you saw glow? Was she altered physically, or was she just as you remembered her Earthly form?” 

“Merde,” Alastor hissed with a gasp. “I... Maman was incandescent. Similar in form to how I recalled her, but... there were…” he gestured vaguely at his own large ears. “Certain changes.” 

Charlie, still frozen in the doorway, took a quiet step backwards. Clearly this was personal. Private. Something she wasn’t supposed to hear. She pulled the door shut behind her, leaning against the wall. She could no longer hear what was being said, but her mind spun with the notions she had overheard. A single tear ran down her face as she recalled Alastor’s shock at knowing he’d seen his mother. “It’s not fair,” she muttered to herself, wiping at her face. 

After waiting a few more minutes to collect herself, she pasted on a cheerful smile and lunged for the door. “I’m back!” she announced, just loud enough to necessitate being quickly shushed. “Whoops!” she whispered. “Sorry everyone! I didn’t realize I was gone so long!” She closed the door and tiptoed into the room, pressing a shiny gift bag into Alastor’s hands. “Seeing as how I’m the official godmother and all, I come bearing gifts! I thought maybe Chance could use a few of my old hand-me-downs!” she explained.

“Good gracious, my dear girl!” Alastor coughed, surprised. He peered down into the bag with shock. “This is surely too much for you to offer! Are you certain that you’re willing to part with such personal keepsakes?” 

Charlie’s grin outshone the Radio Demon’s own as she replied. “Absolutely. It’s just a few old things, and none of these are anything that I had any special sentimental attachment to, so don’t worry! Lots of pink in there, I hope that’s okay.” 

“I’m quite certain that the boy doesn’t have a color preference yet, my dear!” Alastor chuckled.

Husk abruptly stirred with a snort and a slurred mutter of “Who’s eating me?” before spotting the infant chewing on his hand. “Ah shit, the kid’s getting hungry, Al. He’s gonna be ravenous by the time he wakes up, from the feel of it.” Handing the still-sleeping Chance off to Alastor, he shifted and stretched with a groan. “I feel like I could sleep forever,” he complained, dragging himself upright. “Goddamned Gravity, lemme get up you clingy fuck…” 

Charlie blinked at the comment as she returned his abandoned hat. “Uh, okay. Are you guys good to get home on your own, Al? I can get Razzle and Dazzle to drive you home if you need a lift.” 

Alastor immediately was all smiles and showmanship once more, walking over to put his free arm around Husk with a theatrical twirl. “Not to worry, dear! I’m perfectly capable of handling transportation myself! Thank you both for your generous hospitality, but I’m afraid we should be going! With a sweeping bow, Alastor twirled his hand in a grand gesture. Nothing happened.

Husk snorted in amusement at the puzzled look on the Radio Demon’s face as Charlie and her father struggled not to snicker. “Al, you dumb fuck, did you forget about the door thing?” 

“Ah,” Alastor muttered, cheeks coloring. “If one of you would be so kind?”

As soon as the pair had departed with their child, Charlie shut the sanctuary door and turned to give her father a questioning look. “Dad, what _are_ you up to? What did Al give you? Something’s going on here, and I’m not going to just take a pat on the head and forget about it!”

Lucifer gave her a patient, fond sort of look, and Charlie struggled not to fidget. At last, he broke into a wide grin, and winked at her. “That’s my girl, ya don’t take shit from other demons. Not even your old man, right Appleseed?” When she continued to glare expectantly at him, he chuckled, reaching into his pocket to retrieve the vial of colorful liquid. “Now, you can’t be mad since you were the one what’s spoilt the surprise,” he lectured. “This was supposed to be a wedding gift, but since you’ve already seen it, I suppose I might as well give it to you early.” 

“Wait, wedding gift?” Charlie echoed, looking at the container in confusion. “Dad, I’m not even engaged yet!”

”Oh, but ya will be!” Her father chuckled. “It’s as obvious as the twinkle in your eyes that the day’s coming soon. An’ well, one of these days you an’ that protective lil’ fireball of a moth gal may decide you want some young ‘uns of your own. There’s all kinds of ways you could go about scratching that particular itch, but just in case you wanted this way...” 

Charlie nearly dropped the tube of enchantment. “Wait, this is...” 

“The perfected version of Alastor’s neat little trick,” Lucifer nodded. “Just in case ya gals feel like thumbing your noses at your Grandfather, too. When ol’ Al told me what he was cooking up and begged to bargain for my help, I decided that I could see my way clear to making a little exchange with him. We found ourselves in a... unique position to help one another, you might say. He’s still very much in my debt... or should I say _our_ debt? At any rate, he owes. And he knows better than not to pay, especially now.”

Lucifer strolled over to place a hand on her shoulder. “The day’s a-coming when I’m going to decide to retire from managing this nine-ring circus, Appleseed. And when I do, you’re going to be in charge. You’ll doubtless face some opposition. Consider Alastor to be at your service, when that happens, hm?”

“You did all this... for me?” Charlie asked, gazing into the precious container of magic.

”For you, and a tiny little bit of amusement for myself along the way, my girl!” Her father managed to giggle in spite of the sincere smile on his face. “You know I love multitasking almost as much as I love you, Appleseed! Happy almost-engagement!”

Charlie laughed, throwing her arms around his shoulders. “Dad, thank you! I’ll do my best to make you proud!

”Already done, my girl! I knew you’d find your way, as soon as you got your head out of those clouds full of haloes and back on solid brimstone.”


	9. Everything Changes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alastor had changed everything, and Hell would never be the same afterwards.

It was a time of changes, both inside the family home and in the wider world of Hell outside. During the months as Alastor and Husk learned to be parents, a series of vicious territorial wars rolled over the landscape. While the family discovered new routines, the disrupted balance of the echelon of Overlords came crashing down in what one might refer to kindly as a dumpster fire. A vicious cycle began, where regions whose master was eliminated were hotly disputed, sparking bloody battles that left more ground up for grabs.

Since the destruction of Vox, the vast media empire he had built fractured. The many ambitious sycophants who had patiently waited for their opportunity to seize a piece of the holdings discovered gleefully that their time had come at last. Most of Hell found themselves watching the official announcement in real time from the streets, confused and frightened as their devices sputtered and failed in the conflict. The services came back online unreliably, only to be cut off and then restored again, their ownership changing in spilled blood. 

Electrical power became the first of Vox's previous domains to be solidified under a new ruler. A small, fragile-looking demoness with large, insect-like wings became the custodian of energy in a decisive, chemically-fueled electrical strike that left most of those who'd been eager for the position too wise to challenge her. Those who did were found charred to a crisp from her voltaic abilities. 

It would take weeks longer for television, internet and hellphones to become stable pillars of the afterlives of the damned once more.

The cannier of the Overlords, such as Rosie, stayed out of the way of the destruction. From their strongholds, they watched with amusement or concern as their peers slaughtered each other. Angelic weapons were brought to bear in many of these battles, used by the covetous on their rivals. There were those who said that in the aftermath of some of these struggles, the stragglers were picked off by mysterious, white-garbed demons, and the weapons seized. The only one who knew what happened to the much-desired implements was Lucifer himself, whose collection of the things grew larger and more delightfully diverse every day.

He hadn’t had so much fun in millennia, and it was just beginning.

The newly-dead found themselves fallen into a turbulent, confusing world. They were thrust into a sphere full of conflict, their new home a background for a war between superpowers, vying for supremacy. It was terrifying for some, exciting for others, but for most, it was becoming tedious.

For the average demon, the fighting quickly lost its intrigue. Too weak to take part in the conflict in any meaningful way, they were mere spectators to the in-fighting. While some were obliged by contract to support one of the players in the conflict, by and large they steered clear.

For those who happened to find themselves involved by accident, they soon realized they were too unimportant to merit being killed by anything that would rend their souls from their bodies permanently, and so it was merely a torturous annoyance to discover oneself about to be temporarily smote.

Sinners learned soon to simply avoid the fighting, and hide when rumors of a new confrontation spread. When the Extermination Day came, the population of common demons was nearly untouched by the bloodthirsty angels who descended into Hell. The more foolish of the would-be overlords, ignorant to the calendar as they struggled for scraps of territory and power, were not as fortunate.

The Princess Charlotte was conflicted about the turn of events, but did address the people via a circle-wide media broadcast to happily exclaim over the lowest Reap Count in centuries. Even as she gladly congratulated the survivors on their continued existence, she called for an end to the prolonged fighting.

The atmosphere of Pride was nearly a holiday, as demons throughout Pride enjoyed a respite from the battling Overlords. The inhabitants instead were glued to their devices on the day after Extermination, but rather than viewing battles over the spoils from the erased, this time the population was watching her speech.

"We have endured months of this barbaric conflict," the blonde demoness proclaimed, gaze turning cold and furious as she stared down the camera. "And I have grown both heartsick and weary of it. While my father seems content to allow this to continue, I say to you that I am far beyond ready for it to be through! If you will not end this soon, then I will end it for you! ONE. WEEK." 

Her fully transformed demonic appearance burst into view at that, ending the broadcast. Charlie Magne had finally won the hearts and minds of most of the population of Hell, with a few threatening words toward the right demons.

The damned counted the days after that, either in relief or in frustration, until a fragile armistice was established. Months of bloodshed came to an end not with an epic, decisive battle, but with a collective groan of exhaustion. 

When Lucifer finally appeared outside of his palace and asked if the show was over, the surviving combatants were only too quick to agree. The Fallen Angel noted with delighted satisfaction that many of the demons who'd given him worry about his darling heir's one-day coronation were gone.

"Y'all clean up this mess, ya hear?" he called over one shoulder as he vanished back inside his imposing home. 

Elsewhere, the Circle of Wrath began a highly-successful tourism campaign titled "Still More Chill Than Pride".

Alastor and Husk might have found all of this a bit overwhelming, if they’d had the time to worry about such things. Their attention was thoroughly occupied by their child, and the world beyond their home nearly ceased to exist. 

The new clothing items from Charlie had brought out a whole new side of the baby, much to Alastor's consternation and Husk’s amusement. Garbed in a pink onesie, Chance was suddenly eager to push his limits, straining to explore everything that he could see. He continued to grow stronger, and despite the fact that he did not seem to even crawl yet, he was startlingly mobile. 

The child became increasingly likely to turn up anywhere and everywhere in the household, most often after being put down for what was supposed to be a nap. Inside the pantry, under the bed, and on one memorable occasion, asleep inside the bathroom sink with Alastor’s shadow standing cautious guard at the door.

The boy was an adorable, fiendishly resourceful little terror, and it was quickly becoming apparent that he could not be trusted unsupervised, even for an instant. 

At last, things came to a breaking point. It had been over seven months since his son was born, and Alastor was at his wits end. Not even his kitchen was safe, he complained to Husk. The frustrated father had been obliged to trap the child under an overturned laundry basket so that he could attend to his baking. Cooking was the only stress relief he'd had in their subterranean home, and now even that was an experience in frayed nerves. 

As he ferociously abused his pastry cutter on the contents of a large mixing bowl, he ranted about his morning to his husband. Husk, perched on a plush maroon stool in front of the kitchen bar, favored the deer demon with a Cheshire Cat’s smile as his husband ranted. 

“…And then...! Well, when I opened the oven door, the little menace made to grab for it as if to attempt a climb inside! It was not that long ago that he refused to exist without one of us holding him constantly! Now he’s into everything! EVERYTHING! Once he actually learns to crawl, he’s going to be unstoppable! Did I tell you that I actually caught him in the act of moving about the room earlier? He latches those adorable little claws into the floor and pulls himself ever-so-slowly towards whatever his current target is. It’s nefarious, Husker!” 

Husk took a long sip of the sparkling Peach Sunrise he’d been nursing while Al complained. He’d recently discovered a small liquor cabinet that had cropped up in the wall, well out of reach of small hands. All told, it had been a delightful event. The storage was sparsely populated with actual alcohol, but the mixers that had appeared in the minifridge beside it meant that he could still make some damn good virgin cocktails while saving the good stuff for later. 

“I’m not gonna to point out that this's all your fault,” he began, getting an eyeroll and a mutter of “Small favors!” from Alastor in reply, “I have been thinking a lot about why he’s suddenly such a livewire, though. At first, I thought the nosy little fuck had been cold or something. I mean, sure he’s a fluffy little shit, but his fur’s different than mine. All frizzy and shit, I guess? Anyway, he doesn't seem to hold heat very well. It’d be no wonder he was so clingy, if he needed some warmth.” Alastor paused his work, staring thoughtfully at the cat demon as he spoke. 

Husk downed the last of his juice and soda, the last drizzle of grenadine from the bottom of the glass staining his lips with a blush of bright red. “So, I thought to myself; now he’s warm, and we keep moving around all over the place so he feels like he needs to.” He shrugged in the face of Alastor’s scrutiny. “It made a certain amount of sense to me, at first, anyway.” Alastor leaned over the bar to squint at Husk’s face, humming as he considered. 

“Perhaps,” he agreed slowly. “The theory does have some merit. That could be why he prefers snuggling with you over being held by me as well. You’re simply warmer.”

The cat demon laughed out loud at that. “Or maybe the kid just likes me better, eh папочка?” 

The Radio Demon’s nose wrinkled. “I don’t know what that means, Husker. You know I don’t. You’re being quite rude, and setting a poor example for my son. May I just remind you that he already has some terrible habits?”

“I’m sure you can figure it out.” Husk grinned brazenly. “Anyway, that was my theory. Then I remembered that the little shit likes being wrapped in pretty much anything, warm or not. My wings, a threadbare old shirt, whatever. Makes him feel secure or some shit, I guess. So instead, what if it's a security thing? Now he’s constantly got something around him and he's feeling safe.”

Husk shrugged. “At any rate, there’s no way he’s not going to tear this place down around us, eh Papa?” Husk favored Alastor with a toothy grin at the name, watching as Al’s judgmental squint widened into a broad grin, sparkling with hungry delight. 

Alastor’s hand suddenly darted forward, catching Husk’s chin and tipping his head back to accommodate Al’s position as he licked the bit of pomegranate juice residue from the startled Husk’s lip.

“Oh, shit…” the cat demon muttered, just before his husband then moved to catch him in a series of quick, teasing kisses. “Now I remember... why I don’t... call you that...” 

A clatter of plastic interrupted the pair, making both demons jump in surprise at the unexpected noise. Alastor whirled, still armed with his pastry cutter, to confront the source of the disturbance. Husk peered around him and laughed.

Chance had managed to sit up, throwing off his laundry basket prison. Seeing his wide-eyed parents staring, the baby raised his arms over his head with a victorious cry of “BAH!” 

“You know, you're right Al. Your son really is rude,” Husk chuckled, relaxing to lean his elbow on the bar. 

”That is your son, I believe you will find!” Alastor objected, blowing a bit of stray hair out of his face. “No child of mine would be such an inconsiderate menace.”

Husk let out a loud guffaw at that, slapping one large palm on the kitchen counter. “Ha! You’re so full of shit, it’s probably a health hazard. Eh, I’m pretty sure he gets this crap from you. Fuck if the kid ain’t getting stronger every damned day, though. Little shit’s going to be running around any day if he…” 

The baby abruptly lost his balance, and fell backwards to smack his head on the floor with a howl of shock and pain. 

“Fucking hell!” Husk yelped as he and Alastor scrambled to dive for the wailing Chance. Somehow the cat demon got there first, scooping the sobbing child into his arms as Alastor frantically began running his hands over the baby’s small head. Kneeling in the floor with the crying infant between them, the duo quickly assured themselves that there was nothing but a startled baby and a small boo-boo happening. 

“Fuck, you’re a scary thing, kid.” Husk sighed, abruptly fatigued from the stress. He let the child slide into his lap to sob. “I’m gonna be an old man for sure by the time we get you out of diapers.”

With that, Husk slumped backwards himself to sprawl in the kitchen floor, wings half-outstretched to take up the majority of the floor space. “I’m gonna double-die and you’re going to be the cause of it, ya little shit,” he proclaimed dramatically, throwing one arm over his face. 

Chance’s sobs faded to confused sniffles as he watched Husk slowly collapse into a heap of slumped limbs and bright plumage that covered the floor. Catching on to the scheme, Alastor chuckled. “You had a good run, Husker. Don’t razz the poor boy too hard though, hm? Maman is quite the drama queen, eh Chance?” 

“Shut up Al, I’m being double-dead right now,” Husk complained from his position on the floor. “Ain’t ya got no respect for the deceased?” 

“M-ma…” 

Husk sat up like a shot, ears perked and eyes wide as he stared at the child in his lap. Newly blessed with Husk’s attention once more, Chance squealed happily. The cat demon scooped the child up, gaping in wonder at the little thing. “Didja hear that, Al? Fuck, was that… That’s his first word, right?” 

“It was a word *fragment* if it was anything!” Alastor vowed, moving to kneel in the floor next to the pair. “That doesn’t count!” The Radio Demon leaned closer to loom in the baby’s face. “Chance! Chance, can you say Papa?” 

“Fuck that, he’s trying to say Mama!” Husk insisted, shouldering his husband out of his way. “No coaching, let the kid say what he wants!”

Alastor pushed back with a complaint of “You don’t even WANT to be known as Maman!” During the brief but spirited gentle shoving match, Chance began to babble again in excitement. The parents immediately ceased their struggling at the sound. Alastor and Husk fell silent, respectful of the expectant atmosphere in the room. 

Something magical was about to happen. Something that that would be an intrinsic part of their experience as parents. The duo spared each other a quick glance of eager anticipation before leaning in closer. The baby’s mouth began to move once more. 

Chance promptly sneezed wetly in their faces. 

Two significant changes happened in the aftermath of that evening; Alastor stopped getting so close to the child’s face, and Husk stopped objecting to being referred to as the boy’s mother.

Chance’s first word, as it turned out, was neither Mama or Papa. Despite all of the encouragement (and some attempted bribery) from his parents, his first word was “Die”, spoken while he and Husk watched the television that Alastor had finally been persuaded to allow inside of their home after months of being cut off from the outside world. 

The story that was playing was about what would eventually be recognized as the final days of the so-called Overlord Wars, as the stunned Alastor and Husk looked on. A snippet of Charlie's speech was played before a new voice began editorializing over shaky footage of one of the battles that had shaken up the world topside. 

Alastor and Husk were speechless as the footage ended, and the image returned to the studio. Their son was not.

The unknowing recipient of the comment was one Katie Killjoy, full-time news anchor and would-be news media overlord. She would never learn why she had incited the Radio Demon’s wrath before she was eliminated on the next Extermination Day.

Her replacement, an endlessly peppy parrot demon with a predilection for treating the camera like a conversation partner instead of speaking to his reluctant co-host, was much more jovially received by the child.

The family home finally appearing on the surface of the Hellscape was a quiet affair, known only to the inhabitants. The building was situated in an inhospitable bit of property beyond the city, bordered on all sides by overgrown wetlands that were full of ferocious wildlife.

The structure had grown in size multiple times following Chance’s birth. Now a proper house instead of a subterranean bunker, it was a sprawling thing with two stories of whitewashed clapboard. 

Aquamarine and purplish-maroon shutters flanked the windows, and similar shades graced the trim here and there with touches of gold. A large wraparound porch that offered shade on the first floor and an expansive, railed balcony on the second was one of many touches of old New Orleans that Alastor bestowed upon the place. 

“Quite fashionable,” he’d proclaimed the final product. “Very Garden District, Husker.” 

The doors and windows might not function for the increasingly active, curious toddler that Chance was growing into, but the growing young demon dearly loved staring out of them into the forbidden world beyond. The notion that there was something to the world beyond the walls of his home seemed to fascinate the child.

On one particular evening, the family adjourned out of doors for the first time. Stepping out onto the balcony for fresh air, Husk startled the child by taking advantage of the freedom of the late evening sky.

After months of being cooped up inside, Husk spread his large wings with a delighted, groaning stretch that moved the air around the little family. A quick flap and a rush of air, and he left the decking to become airborne. 

Chance’s small mouth fell open with shock as he stared after the figure rising lazily from the roof. His father was no help, in fact he had set Chance onto the wooden floor and was laughing with delight at the display. As if it was of no concern that Husk and his warm cuddles and loving voice might just vanish into the endless distance! 

Overcome with terror at the growing distance between them, the child began to whimper. Alastor looked down to see the distressed look on the child’s face and paled. 

“Husker, best hurry back my darling!” 

Husk swooped low over the roof, strong wingbeats enabling him to almost hover in front of Alastor. “What, you miss me already, jackass?” he asked, the very image of pleased flattery.

Beneath him, Chance had pulled himself to stand, reaching for the figure just out of reach. Eyes watering with fear and frustration, he let out a desperate cry. 

“MAMAAA!” 

The word faded into wet sobs at the end, and Husk alit on the deck with a guilty cringe. “Oh, what the hell, kid? I’m not going anywhere!” He dropped into a seated position on the floor, and the child nearly flung himself into the cat demon's arms to wail at the separation.

Husk chuckled to himself as the cries faded to teary-eyed looks of reproach, punctuated by whimpers. “You’re not gonna be rid of me that easy, ya little shit. Calm down before ya make yourself sick, hm? Shhhhh.” 

“It seems you’ve won our little contest, darling,” Alastor sighed as he leaned against the second story wall to watch his little family reconcile. “Our son said Mama before Papa. Congratulations are in order, if your conscience will stand them, Maman.” 

“Ha,” Husk complained, patting the sniffling baby’s back as he favored his husband with a droll look. “отец is funny, isn’t he Chance? Acting like he knows anything about having a conscience.” 

“Husker, really!” Alastor complained, straightening to stomp one foot in impatient frustration. “Now what does THAT mean?!” 

“Which part?” 

“ANY OF IT!” 

As the family began to make sparse appearances throughout Hell, word of the Radio Demon’s progeny spread. Some, like Vox had, reacted with horror at the notion Alastor had somehow managed to create life in a place of death. 

Others, like Charlie, were excited by the idea, and would clamber for any vantage point to see the odd-looking child when he was rumored to be present. And some, like Rosie, were simply charmed by the little creature that would peer hesitantly out of Husk’s large wings at the staring crowds. All of these reactions, Alastor had anticipated, and reacted to with glowing pride. 

Husk tended to dress the child predominantly in the clothing items received from Charlie, especially when the family ventured out. Despite Alastor regaining his full power, and with it the ability to craft any variety of items, Lucifer's own power came off of the unassuming soft pastels in nearly-visible waves. 

The energy was more than just a powerful deterrent against any thoughts of mischief by those foolish enough to dare risking the Radio Demon's wrath, it was also the most potent stain-repellant that Alastor had ever encountered. 

It was no wonder, Husk pointed out, that the Lord of Hell got away with wearing so much white. 

There was another reaction that the Radio Demon hadn’t expected, however. It would be an obvious thing, in hindsight. Alastor and Husk, preoccupied with their small miracle, failed entirely to notice it at first. 

Amongst the looks of fear and astonishment that followed their child, there were also gazes fraught with the sort of profound yearning that Husk himself would have been familiar with, had he only looked. It was only a matter of time before the subject was raised.

Niffty was the one who first broached the subject. It had been almost a year after the baby’s birth when the little bug demon, who’d begun playing babysitter to the excitable infant, approached Alastor with a request for a particular favor. The little bug demoness was uncharacteristically nervous as she wavered in the threshold, reluctant to say goodbye on this particular day.

“Um, Alastor? Chance is super-neat but um… have you ever thought about making another one?” 

The Radio Demon chuckled at the thought, demurring that his darling husband had patently refused any and all entreaties to consider blessing their home with another child. Niffty hesitated, shifting back and forth beside the deer demon in a nervous manner as he allowed Chance to pull at his red and black ears. 

“What if um… What if it wasn’t...? I mean...I...” Alastor stiffened in place, eyes tracking downward ever-so slowly to stare at the small demon beside him. “That is,” Niffty fidgeted, eye downcast and her usual boisterous voice quiet. “What- What if someone else wanted... a baby? I’ve… I’ve got someone, sorta… That is, we can’t really be together. Not like you guys are…” 

She wiped at her eye suddenly. “N-No, please nevermind. It was out of line to even bring this up.” 

The tiny demoness had fled from his stunned scrutiny, scurrying off before Alastor recovered from the shock. The disbelief lingered for hours, long after Niffty had departed. Alastor had made dinner in a dizzied state that was sent into a further level of panic when Chance, who'd escaped from his insecure playpen, attempted to pull a cooking pot down from the stove atop himself. Extreme measures were taken. 

Husk arrived home from an errand in town shortly before the meal, and had been briefly amused to discover the child was locked in what nearly amounted to a pet crate. This mood quickly soured when he discovered his husband in a blank sort of daze, almost mechanically going through the motions of cooking. 

The deer hadn’t even noticed the bag of alcohol and smokes that he’d carried in, for pity’s sake. Husk had even joked that he’d brought the kid his first cigar and a bottle of vermouth, but Al merely muttered a distracted "That's nice, darling" in reply! 

The bastard wasn’t even preoccupied in his usual manner. Instead of the typical nonstop chatter that Al liked to dominate dinner conversation with, Husk had been obliged to attempt filling the silence by himself. Alastor continued to be tuned out. Occasionally, his gaze drifted to Chance, where he would stare in a foggy state. 

Husk's statements had slowly gotten more and more ridiculous, until there wasn’t even any potential humor in Al’s silence in the face of them. 

“That’s fuckin’ it,” Husk snarled at last, throwing his napkin down on the table and stalking over to shove Alastor’s shoulder. “Wake the hell up, Al. I’m talkin’ to you, here.”

Alastor blinked, brought out of his reverie. His fork was still paused halfway on the journey to his mouth, where it had been for the last few minutes. “Husker?” he muttered, turning slightly to favor his glaring husband with a confused look. With an annoyed flick of his tail, Husk promptly seated himself across Alastor’s lap, leveling a furious glare at him from close range. 

“H-Husker!” the deer demon squawked in shock, face as red as his hair. “What in the world are you doing?” 

“I’m getting your goddamned attention,” his husband sneered. “Since calling your name from across the table hasn’t been working, I’ve had to employ more direct methods. Now what the shit is the matter with you?” 

Alastor squirmed, but failed to convince the irate cat demon to abandon his new perch. “It’s nothing, my dear. Don’t worry about it.” He gestured vaguely with the hand not still clinging resolutely to his fork. “Nothing to be concerned about, Husker.” 

Husk gave him the most intense, up close and personal squint of scrutiny that had ever been leveled in his direction. Scoffed. Turned his head and with only a slight tilt to his body to lean in the direction of the all but forgotten fork, ate the cold bite of Alastor’s food that had been threatening to drip roux onto the Radio Demon’s pinstriped slacks for the last several minutes. 

He turned back afterwards to chew viciously in Alastor’s disbelieving face, swallowing with a look of pure spite.

“Spill.” 

Alastor sputtered in disbelief. “Husker! What’s gotten into you?!” 

“Yer wasting food, Al.” Husk’s narrowed eyes met Alastor’s own with a glint of challenge. “Your ma’s probably crying up there in Heaven, seeing you wasting her recipes feeding the air.” The cat demon crossed his arms, large wings twitching in that particular chimeric display of annoyance that only Husk could exude. 

“Now, are you going to pipe up and tell me what’s got you all worked up, or am I gonna eat your goddamned dinner?” 

From his seat, hidden behind Husk’s blood-colored wings, Chance made a sound of wonder at the confrontation. 

“It’s just…” Alastor began, tripping over his words as Husk held up his own fork in silent threat; Alastor’s plate having been moved to his grip via some sleight of hand that the Radio Demon had entirely missed. “That is…” 

The cat demon’s fork was moving, the flash of silvery metal grabbing a section of roast beef drew Alastor’s gaze like the glint of a knife plunging for his heart. 

“Niffty asked me to impregnate her!” Alastor blurted, ears wilting. 

Husk’s startled blink quickly turned into a sneer of disbelief. “Fucking… what?” A piece of bell pepper slid dangerously close to the edge of the utensil gripped in his claws. “Explain.” 

“When I arrived home this afternoon, she asked me if I’d ever considered creating another such as our son. I told her you were quite opposed, and she suggested she and some unnamed beau of her own for the process. Something was said about them not cohabitating, but before I could get over my shock and ask for more information, she left.” 

“The fuck?” Husk muttered, turning his head to glance back at Chance, who was gleefully smearing bits of vegetables, meat and gravy around on his high chair tray as he stared at them. “Since when has Niffty got a secret boyfriend?” 

Alastor snapped his teeth around the food being held before him, taking advantage of Husk’s distraction. A quick chew and swallow later, and he was smirking up at the glaring cat demon’s face. “I assume that goes along with the ‘secret’ part, dearest.” 

Husk made a noncommittal noise at the notion, stabbing a bit of beef and some celery and sliding it through the gravy before offering it to Alastor’s mouth. “So, what are you going to do, Al?” he asked gruffly, allowing the deer demon the bite before spearing another piece of meat and holding it out. 

Alastor hummed, considering his response as he chewed. “I’m not certain what you mean, beloved. I have no intention of reproducing our minor miracle for just anyone.” A forkful of rice and gravy tapped the end of his nose, making him blink.

“Niffty ain’t just anyone, and you know it, Al.” 

The Radio Demon paused; his perpetual smile fallen to a doubtful smirk as he eyed Husk critically. “You’re suggesting that I do it, Husker? After everything that happened? After I professed that my endeavors were my gift to you? Intended, with grudging exception to our benefactor, for us, and us alone?” 

He ignored the fork in front of his face until Husk was obliged to eat the food himself. 

“Well,” the cat demon muttered behind a mouthful of rice and gravy, “I’ve been thinking, Al. The kid, he’s gonna be kind of lonely without any friends, ain’t he? We’re not exactly getting our door knocked down by demons looking for playdates for their own kids… the hellborns and such that HAVE kids, that is.” 

He cut a new piece of meat and trapped a sliver of green onion beneath it before he held the fork out to Alastor once more. 

The deer demon shrugged. “I will admit, there are certain factors that make the notion of giving young Chance peers appealing,” he finally admitted. “As you say, he will need companionship beyond what we can provide soon enough.”

Alastor accepted the offered bite of food and chewed thoughtfully. Swallowing, he added “There are also the practical benefits. A larger sample size of population for study, if you will.” Another forkful of food was presented for his consideration as he spoke. “In case of sickness, or some other event, it would be handy to have such a potential boon.” His face darkened, and Husk’s ears fell back in dread. 

“However?” 

Alastor nodded at the hesitantly voiced question. “However, indeed. I haven’t the slightest clue what Lucifer would think of such a thing. I would need to speak with him about this, and we may find that such a thing could increase my already considerable debt.”

”Additionally, we must consider any hypothetical future demons I could create to be a potential threat as well as potential companions. I have seen gazes directed at our son that are… less than charitable. It's possible someone could use this as a ruse to get close enough to strike at us. I won’t tolerate threats to our family, Husker. You know that.” 

The cat demon served the last of the rice and gravy to his husband’s grim mouth with a hesitant nod. “Yeah, I hate to admit it, but that makes a lot of sense. So, the first thing is finding out who Niff’s mysterious boyfriend is, I’m guessing?” At Alastor’s nod, Husk leaned down to kiss the smear of gravy from the Radio Demon’s nose. “Got any ideas who she’s seeing?” 

Alastor gave a helpless shrug, mouth full and face flushed.


	10. Taking Responsibility

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It bothered Lucifer. 
> 
> As he had told Alastor, heaven-bound souls being allowed outside of Heaven meant a dire level of holy meddling. Who though? Who in Heaven would do such a thing? And why?
> 
> It bothered Husk. 
> 
> Neither he nor Alastor had ever heard of Niffty having a committed partner before, and now the tiny demoness not only had a significant other that she was dedicated to, but one she was so dedicated to that she dared ask Alastor for the favor of his life-forging. Who was this mystery suiter?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may have seen a garbled-up, super-early proto-piece of this chapter that was accidentally posted earlier. Apologies if you tried to read that mess! 
> 
> This chapter eventually ended up super-long in the final version, so it has been split up.

It bothered Lucifer. 

As he had told Alastor, heaven-bound souls being allowed outside of Heaven meant a dire level of holy meddling. Who though? Who in Heaven would do such a thing? And why?

It bothered Husk. 

Neither he nor Alastor had ever heard of Niffty having a committed partner before, and now the tiny demoness not only had a significant other, but one she was so dedicated to that she dared ask Alastor for the favor of his life-forging. Who was this mystery suiter?

It bothered Alastor. 

Every time that the little family ventured out into the public, the stares were impossible to ignore. Having been cued to look for such things by Husk, Alastor suddenly became aware of the raw, envious WANT in the gazes of some of the spectators. 

It was the same look that Niffty would give the child, equally full of hope, despair, dread and hungry awe. Now that he had been attuned to the particular frequency these expressions operated at, the Radio Demon found himself seeing the looks everywhere. Demons in the street. Overlords in the balconies of the theater. Randoms in the supermarket. It was frightening to realize how many of these gazes were being directed at his small miracle. 

Niffty might be one thing, depending upon who her beau was, but clearly there were more demons eager for the new sorcery that he had developed than he had ever anticipated. The question was, what would his benefactor think of this proposal? 

He found himself standing in the expansive apple orchard on the Pentagram Palace grounds, asking that very question as he watched the lord of all Hell tend to his apple trees.

It was a little frightening to consider this verdant paradise of abundant fruit and fragrant blossoms was situated at the center of Hell’s power. It was too much like Earth, but also disturbingly Other. A sliver of something that had no place in the circles of the damned.

Lucifer was dressed casually, wearing a pastel plaid shirt and a large, floppy sun hat. The pale figure hummed a little ditty as he inspected the rainbow of fruit hanging from the branches. From deep midnight purples to gleaming reds and all the way to brilliant, lustrous gold too bright to be anything benign, the fruit was, in a word, tempting. The fallen angel was making a show of inspecting each and every one of them, ignoring Alastor and his question in favor of puttering about in his hobby garden. 

Alastor stifled the urge to grumble about the treatment. It was obvious that he was being made to sweat the answer to his query. Lucifer was letting him stew in the worry over what the response would be. It was a technique for letting someone know just how far they were beneath you that Alastor himself enjoyed employing on occasion. 

He did not care for being at this end of it, at all. 

“Well now, Al… that’s a right interesting question you asked me,” Lucifer finally replied from his current perch in the shady boughs. He cast a grin down at the pained expression on the Radio Demon’s face and winked. “Does this mean you’ve had a change of heart? Decided to give the ol’ ‘raise an army of hellspawn’ idea a try, after all?” 

Alastor’s breath left him in a startled, harsh cough of a noise. “Decidedly not!” He nearly spat in distaste of the notion before remembering himself and the uncomfortable reason why he was here. He collected himself with a mental shudder. It wouldn’t do to insult Lucifer by defiling his little piece of lost paradise with expactoration.

“No indeed,” the Radio Demon shuddered. “It’s... it simply seems that there are certain individuals who also share my darling husband’s desire for children of their own. They are... shockingly insistent.”

The fallen angel had been reaching for a piece of fruit, but paused at the statement. “You sound surprised, Alastor. Did you really think that such a mundane, Earthly desire was unique in all of Hell?” 

Alastor shrugged helplessly, dropping to sit cross-legged upon the ground like a reprimanded child. “I honestly could not say. I had never thought to consider such a thing before Husker expressed his desire to me. I have never thought myself to be particularly interested in youngsters myself. At least…” 

“Until now?” Lucifer guessed with a chuckle. He dropped from the high tree branch, somersaulting down and sticking the landing with a broad grin at the startled expression on his guest’s face. “Well, let’s leave that aside for the moment. I don’t especially care if you decide that you want to make use of the rest of that bit of my marrow, just so long as you remember that there _won’t_ be more of it.” 

Lucifer tossed a golden apple Alastor’s way, which the Radio Demon nearly fumbled. “You just mind that you’re responsible. You’ve got something that sows a mighty big crop of envy, and you’d best be wary of whose sake you’re using it for.” 

Alastor stared down at the shining, almost metallic surface of the fruit in his hands as the lord of Hell spoke. 

“I never wanted to become known as Hell’s life-giver,” the deer demon muttered, staring back at his reflection. 

“It scarcely matters what a body wants,” Lucifer chuckled, turning his head to look at the laden branches of his trees. The light of the midday hellfires shone through the trees, dappling the trunks and ground below with unholy light. “What matters is what you’re given, and what you take for yourself. Once you’ve got them, they’re yours until you throw them away- And discarding them can cost you even more dearly than having them.” 

“I see,” Alastor murmured, standing. “I suppose that I shall take your answer and your counsel and be on my way.” He held the shiny apple a moment longer before holding it out. 

“You don’t want to take that?” Lucifer asked, genuinely surprised. 

“I have far too much that others covet already,” Alastor responded gravely as he dropped the apple into the fallen angel’s outstretched palm. “I don’t need more Discord in my afterlife.” 

He found himself walking home, rather than teleporting. His stomach was tying itself in knots. He felt distinctly ill.

He hadn’t realized it until he’d gotten his answer, but he’d been hoping to be denied. That would have been the end of it. That would have been the final word on the subject, all tied up with a neat little bow that absolved him of any and all responsibility for the decision. 

He didn’t want any more responsibilities to answer to the lord of Hell over. That look on Lucifer’s face had been pure amusement. He was positively giddy about the hooks Alastor found himself upon multiplying.

Husker didn’t know what he was asking, when he’d suggested that Alastor comply with Niffty’s request. No one but Lucifer and Alastor himself knew of the secret that bond them- the dire ingredient that made soul-forging possible. 

“Damn!” Alastor cursed to himself, vanishing in a splash of shadowy distortion to reappear in his home. 

“Huh... Look at that, ya little shit. Your dad’s back already,” Husker’s voice announced, and Alastor turned to see his husband sprawled in the floor. His fur was rumpled, his feathers were mussed, and his tail was doing a remarkable impression of a dead fish. The baby was sitting proudly atop him like a tiny, fluffy predator with its first kill. 

“What… are you two doing?” Alastor heard himself ask, his earlier ire forgotten. 

“I’ve been defeated by this horrible incarnation of boundless energy and destruction,” Husk announced, resting his chin on one paw with an exhausted grimace. “And when I went down, nap time went with me. Al, have I told ya how much I like nap time? Nap time was the fuckin’ best. I goddamn LOVED nap time.” 

The cat demon fixed Alastor with a frayed expression that was adorably distressed. “SAVE. ME.” 

Alastor struggled not to laugh in his husband’s irritated face. “Oh dear… Well, perhaps I can keep the small one entertained while you indulge, my dearest.”

Pulling the child into his arms, he fixed Chance with a stern look. “Now see here, my darling little menace, let’s leave Maman to get some rest. We can’t have him getting any more sour, or he’ll turn yellow like a lemon. Maman would make a terrible blonde, and shame on you for attempting to instigate such a horrid transformation!” 

“Fuck ya both,” Husk muttered as he struggled to his feet and slouched off in search of a safe haven from his energetic child and husband. “Fuck ya both until after I get some sleep.” 

Alastor bounced his giggling son on his hip and laughed. The boy was growing, and Husk was correct- he would need companions who could keep up with him. Perhaps he was being hasty, wanting to dismiss the idea of expanding their circle with a minor demon. He would need to consider the prospect more. It was simply too early to say for certain, and the Extermination Day would soon be upon them.

Alastor would not begin to consider the possibility of pursuing a new venture until that particular worry was resolved for another year. He could not risk any more potentially-fatal distractions.

The Creole woman’s soul glared at the winged figure before her in open contempt. She did not fear him, or what he represented. The room around the trio stretched into infinite darkness. “We ain’t going to tell you nothing more about them boys, so you may as well let us be.” 

The only indication that the holy entity even heard her was the barest flutter of one of his luminous wings. With an expression of endless, compassionate patience, he continued to smile politely at the irate souls before him. 

“As I’ve told you, Athalie, I mean your son no harm. I’m simply… curious about his most _interesting endeavor.”_

The second soul raised her head with a snarl. “You can damn me straight to hell, Vihkiel. You let me see my son, and I am grateful for that, but that doesn’t mean that I trust your pretty words or your empty smiles. 

The amused angel turned his gaze to face the hissing, almost cat-like figure. “What would you have me swear by, Marie? What would convince you of my sincerity beyond what I have already done for you?” He steepled his long fingers, leaning forward on the table. He towered over them both, despite his stooped posture. 

“Name the condition for your trust.” 

Without missing a beat, the golden-eyed woman’s soul spat “Hell freezing over”. 

Vihkiel regarded her levelly for a moment before replying. “You do realize that there could be unfortunate side effects for both of your sons and their child if I were to make this happen merely to prove a point?” 

Marie exchanged a wide-eyed glance with Athalie, who was similarly shocked at the response. “You- You’re really serious? You can’t be serious. Why?” 

The angel breathed a soft sigh, glancing down at where his thin fingers had intertwined. “It’s a story both too long to fully share and too short to sum up succinctly, I’m afraid. Let us just say that I once met someone, and we sometimes meet again, when we can manage it. I would give much to be with her in even the smallest of ways.” 

He looked up at the two once-mortal souls seated before him. His five glowing red eyes were sharp and his gaze was direct. “I would bend the laws of heaven and hell, as you well know now.” 

A slight shiver raced through Marie at the reminder. Beside her, Athalie kept her head up, gaze level and imperious. “All your doing, you been doing for yourself, then?” 

Vihkiel favored her with a rueful smile. “I prefer to think of it as a mutually beneficial arrangement. Your cooperation is not necessary to my plans, but I’d much rather have your assistance to make things simpler. Being able to trace your bond to locate your Alastor will make the errand far faster. There could be future boons in store for you, if you’d lend me your aid.” 

“A blade that cuts both ways,” the unimpressed doe-eared soul muttered. “Your words are honeyed, but I see the teeth beneath them. Once you’re there, what then? When Alastor denies you, you won’t be so calm. You’d use us to threaten them boys, sure as the world.” 

“No threats,” Vihkiel pledged, standing. “If Alastor refuses to entertain my proposition, I will accept that and go in peace. No harm shall befall your sons or their child from my disappointment.” He walked over to kneel down beside the hesitant cat-like soul. Marie gazed up at him, concerned. 

“As proof of the honor of my word, have this.” He placed an icy white sphere into the startled soul’s hands. “Perhaps it’s not as dramatic as freezing the whole place over, but since you think there’s a snowball’s chance in Hell that I’m telling the truth… Well, it seems appropriate. It won’t melt unless I intend or act to break my word, ladies.” 

The women exchanged glances once more. Marie’s resolve wavered visibly. “Fine,” Athalie muttered, mouth set in a hard line. “When will you make your first attempt?” 

Vihkiel stood, smiling broadly. “The best time is during the Cleanse,” he smirked. “I know from experience that I won’t be noticed.” 

Months later, the dreaded day had arrived. 

Alastor’s magic shrouded the above-ground portion of the family home in heavy waves, concealing it from sight for most and repelling those who did spy the edifice. The below-ground bunker, once upon a time the first floor of the long-ago cottage, was populated by the small family of three. 

The purge day had come, and absolutely no chances were being taken with any of the Radio Demon’s precious ones. 

Alastor was thoroughly absorbed in cooking, working out his anxious energy with his culinary prowess. As he worked, he sang a little ditty about the bayou that was more than a little disturbing if you paid attention to the lyrics instead of the hum and lilt of his voice. Husk was seated in the recessed floor of the small sitting room area, attempting to coax the distracted Chance to take his first steps on his own. 

For his part, the baby was enthralled with the new development of his home, craning his head to take in as much of the space at once as he could. He wasn’t quite sure what his mother wanted of him, and didn’t care much as the new game wasn’t as interesting as the new adventure. 

“Kid’s too busy having déjà vu to realize I want him to come to me,” Husk complained, earning a soft chuckle from Alastor. “You’d think the damn panic room was the Pentagram Palace, the way he’s looking around!” 

“Perhaps you should let him do it in his own time, Husker?” Alastor replied, expertly turning a pan of sizzling rice with one hand. “I know the boy is more likely to attempt things for you than I, but having been taught a bit of patience from the experience, I…” 

“NO!” Chance interrupted, pointing at his father with delight. 

“…I have _determined_ that attempting to push him when he’s being _obstinate_ is counterproductive,” Alastor carefully enunciated through his tightly-grit teeth, flicking his wrist to roll the pan of food with a terse whip of energy. 

Though their young prodigy had spoken his first word surprisingly early and followed it with a second, third, and eventually a fifth in Mandarin of all things, he had yet to address his father by a proper designation. Indeed, he seemed to take singular delight in tormenting the Radio Demon by refusing to call him anything resembling “papa”. 

His newest favorite name stand-in was the word No, much to Alastor’s chagrin. 

Husk let himself fall back into the cushions lining the nest-like space in the floor. “Maybe you’re right, the little shit’s too clever by half. We’ll have to bust out the reverse psychology or something to motivate him.” He rolled out of the way as the toddler attempted to flop on top of him, smirking as the baby made a noise of frustration at the loss of his intended target and fell into the cushioned floor. 

The large cat demon stretched and yawned before pulling himself upright. “Speaking of reverse psychology, I’m not at all interested in what you’re making over here. Don’t tell me all about it or offer me a taste.” 

“Hm,” Alastor hummed as Husk came up behind him, wrapping both arms around the deer demon’s waist and pressing his head against Alastor’s shoulder. “So it’s subterfuge, is it? I’m suddenly seized with the absolute, desperate need to confess all of my culinary secrets.” 

The chimeric demon leaned heavily against him, chin now resting on Al’s right shoulder. “No, please don’t,” he monotoned, nose sniffing at the air with keen interest. “I couldn’t stand it if you possibly…” 

Laughing, Alastor pushed a spoon of steaming eggs, bacon and vegetables at the feline nose twitching next to his chin. The cat demon’s face leaned forward with no pretense of reluctance, mouth opening. 

A flash of bright light erupted behind the duo, the unmistakable luminescence of holy radiance filling the panic room with brilliance. Husk’s large wings flashed open, carrying him over the kitchen bar and range in a single leap before Alastor’s shadow could even burst from the ceiling overhead. 

With a grunt of effort and a punch to the floor to trigger the emergency exit gate, the cat demon vanished with the couple’s startled toddler. The nest of cushions and pillows in the floor was instantly incinerated, leaving behind the smouldering remains of the transportation sigil in the floorboards. 

“ALASTOR. RADIO DEMON,” the blinding being spoke in a thundering voice that shook the very walls. 

Alastor spun, flinging the searing hot pan of food at the winged apparition, his shadow hissing in challenge as he drew a glowing blade from the Otherspace that he kept the angel weapon in. He had been known and feared for his prowess with a knife since before his death. He would sell his afterlife as dearly as possible. His family was safe for now, and he would not allow that safety to be jeopardized. 

“JESUS WEPT, THAT’S HOT!” the tall angel howled, frantically trying to sling away the searing hot, sticky food that had splattered all over him when he dodged the heavy pan. 

“I knew this day would come,” Alastor sneered, raising his weapon and darting forward to slash at the distracted figure. “I knew that I would eventually draw the attention of Heaven, but I admit that I did not expect it to be so soon. You will find that we are not unprepared for you! Even if you slay me, my…” 

“WILL YOU SHUT UP?” The angel snarled, blocking Alastor’s blow and knocking him down with his wings. “I’M HERE TO ASK A FAVOR, NOT END YOUR INSIGNIFICANT EXISTENCE!” 

From his position on the floor, Alastor gaped, mouth working in outrage. “How DARE you presume to burst into MY HOME uninvited and INSULT ME!” he roared, surging to his feet once more. His shadow snarled from beside him, even as it flinched back against the radiant light. 

“I tried the door, but no one answered,” the angel hissed back, more quietly. Its five eyes were like burning coals, and its wings flared open like an array of scythes. “My ability to inhabit this sphere is a bit time-sensitive. Now, will you listen or must I take extreme measures to be heard?” 

The deer demon stared down the glaringly bright apparition for a long moment before responding. This wasn’t just an angel. This might be a Power, or even a Dominion. That was beyond what strength he himself held. He had to proceed carefully, for Husker’s sake, and for their Chance.

”If this is a scheme to attack my husband and child, you will regret having ever heard my name. I will listen, but beyond that, I make no vows to entertain you, understood?” 

The angel let out a long, hissing breath. “That is quite satisfactory to me. My time is short, so let’s cut to the chase. There is one who is quite beloved to me who has your acquaintance. The tale matters not except for how it deals with the here and now. We meet in secret once a year, on a date I’m certain you can guess. She desperately wants what you have, and I have come to attempt to bargain for it.” 

Alastor’s mind reeled with the implications. “Niffty,” he guessed, receiving a grim nod in return. “You’re her mysterious suitor, then. The one who she can never be with.” 

“Will you bargain or not, deal-maker? If your answer is no, then I will take my leave and stop wasting your time and my own. There are far more attractive errands I could be spending my time upon.” 

The Radio Demon’s grin was a deadly sneer. “I will make no deals with those from Heaven. The ways of sin are straightforward, an absolute of black and white that either IS or ISN’T. Virtue though? Virtue is a half-obscured path of brambles and pitfalls, full of double-speak and conditional phrasing. No, I will make no bargains with you, who won’t even offer a gentlemanly introduction first.” 

The angel straightened his four white wings and nodded. “I suppose that answer will suffice for now. I am Vihkiel, the gatekeeper of the Seal. I will return to ask again in one year’s time. Perhaps by then you will forgive my rude first impression.” 

Alastor bared his long, sharp teeth at the figure until it vanished from the house, then slid to the floor on shaky legs. An angel, and a high-ranking one at that, knew where he lived. Could walk through his magical seals as easily as his shadow slid through walls. Would be back in a year to make his impossible request again. 

He stared at the food and grease covering the floor in a blank sort of dismay. Husker wouldn’t return with Chance until the purge was over or Alastor himself appeared to reassure him. Despite his burning need to see that the two were safe, he couldn’t seem to gather the strength to even stand yet. 

As Alastor attempted to gather his wits, his husband was losing his. “I’m going back!” Husk roared, attempting to dodge past Charlie for the lavish stained glass panel of the nearest window of the Pentagram Palace. 

Still holding the whimpering toddler that had been unceremoniously shoved into her arms when Husk had appeared before her, Charlie sidestepped in front of him once more. “No! You’re not going out there! Not in the middle of the Extermination! You won’t make it even a block away before you’re spotted! Don’t be ridiculous, you’re going to get yourself killed!” 

Husk’s wings fanned open, preparing him to make an airborne leap straight over her. “I’m faster than you think I am, Charlie! I left Al back there with a fucking ANGEL high level enough to just will itself inside our goddamned house! I gotta go back!” 

Charlie’s own rarely-used wings appeared, and she beat them once, forcefully knocking the cat demon back and to the floor with a great rush of air. “And do WHAT, Husk?” she demanded, tone almost venomous as she stalked over to sit on the stunned cat demon’s back to pin his wings in place. “What can **you** do against an angel with powers like that?” 

“I don’t know!” Husk howled in defeat, slumping to the ground to sob in exhaustion. “I don’t know, goddamn it, but I can’t just LEAVE him!” 

Charlie sat Chance down in front of Husk’s face, letting the baby whine and pat at the sobbing cat demon. “Mama… Mama…” Chance whimpered, roughly batting at Husk’s feathery brows. 

“Look Husk, this was the plan. In case of an emergency, you get Chance and get to safety. If something happened to you, you know Al would never forgive any of us, especially himself. Your job is to keep the little guy safe until Al sounds the all-clear. You know that,” Charlie spoke firmly, but gently as the cat demon sniffled beneath her. “We’ve just got to trust in Al.” 

“An’ if he doesn’t show?” Husk snarled weakly, “What then?” 

“Then we know we did everything we could do, and that he’d be glad to know you both are okay.” 

“F-Fuck…” Husk’s last reserves of outrage crumbled at that, and he reached to pull Chance into his arms, sobbing into the child’s fur. “Goddammit, I hate being this fucking weak!” he cried as Charlie carefully moved to sit in the floor beside him, running a hand over his shaking shoulders. 

“It’ll be okay,” she soothed, smiling to reassure the confused toddler who was staring at her. “Even if it’s not okay at first, it’ll be okay eventually. Okay?” Movement near the balcony drew her attention as her father turned to look over his shoulder at her. An uncharacteristic look of something almost resembling empathy was etched onto his typically smiling face. 

“Are you certain you don’t want to move our guests to the safe room, Appleseed?” 

Charlie glanced over to Husk, who shook his head no, eyes pleading as he returned her gaze. “I think we’re good for now, Dad. When Al shows up, everyone’s going to want to see each other as soon as possible." 

Lucifer gave an absent nod and a hum as he returned his attention to the large windowed balcony doors. “Very well, then. Perhaps some refreshments to make the time pass more quickly, hm?” With a flash of his hand, the group was seated at a patio-styled wood and iron table, coffee and apple-cinnamon cookies arrayed before them. 

Chance, from his perch in Husk’s lap, gave an appreciative squeal as he grabbed for a treat to gnaw on with his mouth full of sharp teeth.

“I feel so useless,” Husk sighed, reaching for the cup of aromatic dark coffee that had appeared in front of him. “What the hell does an angel want with us, anyway? Is it the kid?” He glanced guiltily at the child getting crumbs all over his fur. “Fuck, it’s gotta be the kid.” He brushed a paw-like hand over Chance’s head, ruffling the fluffy ears gently. “If Heaven’s got hitmen out for us, we’re well and truly screwed.” 

Lucifer started to say something, but paused, his eyes sharpening for a moment. He cocked his head to the side, as if listening to something only he could hear. “Ah, I believe the man of the hour has arrived,” he smiled, just before Alastor appeared in the room, leaning heavily on his microphone stand cane with a strained smile. 

“Al!” Husk shouted, launching himself from his seat to grab for the deer demon, frantically patting him down in a search for injuries. “Are you okay? You hurt? How many claws am I holding up?” 

“All is well, darling,” Alastor sighed, leaning against his husband for a moment and resting a hand atop their toddler’s head. “I’m quite unhurt, just a bit shaken. It seems that I’ve met Niffty’s mysterious beau.” 

Husk recoiled, nearly causing the Radio Demon to overbalance and fall. “You can’t be serious. The angel? Niffty’s seeing a fucking ANGEL?” He shoved a shoulder beneath Alastor’s arm, pulling him to the seat he’d only just vacated. The winged demon gave his shaky husband a cautious, evaluating look. “Shit, what did he do to you, Al?” 

“He never laid a fingertip on me, my nerves are simply shot from the experience,” Alastor confessed, leaning on the table and dismissing his mic as he took his seat on shaky legs. “He merely informed me of who he was, that he was aware of young Chance, and then…” 

Alastor took a deep breath, looking up to stare the intrigued Lucifer in the eye. “And then he informed me he intended to barter for similar, for Niffty. When I refused to entertain the notion, he informed me that he would be back in one year to make the request once more.” 

Lucifer pushed the tray of cookies forward, eyes wide at the fascinating turn the day had taken. “Land sakes, now this is a twist. Did you get a name?” 

“Vihkiel.” 

The fallen angel blinked, glancing toward the windowed doors of the balcony. Just visible in the sky beyond, the edge of the luminous seal separating Heaven and Hell gleamed. “The Guardian of the Seal,” he muttered. “Well, I suppose it’s not that surprising that it would be him. If anyone… well, anyone *else* was to fall wings over heels for a demon, I mean.” 

He grinned suddenly, and slapped a hand on the table surface. “Oh, next time I see him, I’m going to have one big old I told you so for the stuck up old ninny.” Lucifer’s gaze turned back to Alastor, a vicious smile now stretching across his face. “What’s his offer?” 

Alastor met the expectant stares with a blank look. He fumbled mentally for a moment before he let himself answer. “I don’t know, I dismissed him without hearing it. I have no intention of granting his request, even if he is capable of appearing inside my barriers. We will simply… take better precautions next year.” 

“Alastor, I know you’re all about this magic bullshittery being ours and special and all that shit, but don’t you think that you should at least hear him out? I mean… if someone like that’s made up their mind, what can we even do? Besides, it’s less for HIM than it is for Niffty, right?” Husk flinched as Al’s head whipped around to face him with an audible crack. 

“Husker! This is an _angel,_ not some... random minor demon with negligible influence! And come, you can’t really intend that I reduce life-forging to a mere… item to be traded for? Like a cup of day-old coffee at some… dingy little hole in the wall diner, served to whoever has the scratch to exchange?!” 

“Ain’t you seen the faces she makes at the kid, Al?” Husk pleaded, ears wilting. “It cuts Niff soul-deep to know what’s possible but out of her reach. Don’t get me wrong, she adores the little shit, but it’s practically torture for her. Hell, she actually worked up the nerve to try and ASK YOU what it would cost her. You know she ain’t into begging favors.” 

Alastor’s gaze flicked between Husk’s serious frown and Lucifer’s entertained smirk, pausing briefly at Charlie’s concerned grimace. He sighed, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly before he spoke again. “Very well, Husker. I see your point. Perhaps next year I shall… at least find out more of the particulars before I say no out of hand.” His eyeline dropped to the toddler in Husk’s arms, who was currently reaching for him with a solemn face. 

“Well, my dear one, this is a surprise. You’re not usually so tactile with papa, hm?” 

Chance was easily passed from Husk’s arm to Alastor’s, where he stared up at his father for a long moment, red and gold eyes passing over his features with an uncharacteristic intensity. At last, he reached a small, fuzzy hand up to pat at Alastor’s face, grinning as he announced “Lester!” proudly. 

Alastor gave the child a gaze cool as the wind off an Arctic grave before lightly pinching his nose. “Just for that, I’m taking your nose. You’ll get it back later, depending upon your behavior.” 

Chance gave a squawk of outrage, slapping his hands over his face and shaking his head. “NO!” 

“Just for that, I’m going to eat it,” Alastor decreed, raising his free hand towards his mouth. 

“Christ on a cross, Al!” Husk complained as the baby shrieked in horror. “You give the kid back his nose right now or I’m sleeping on the fucking couch tonight!” 

Niffty was effusively apologetic when Alastor next saw her. Clearly, Vihkiel had told her of his efforts. Husk and Chance were gone from the house when the small demoness arrived, visiting Rosie so that Alastor could have a long talk with the tiny cyclops about the events of the Extermination Day. It was immediately apparent that Husker had been right – his little friend was vastly envious of his little family. 

And though he had every intention of making it clear that he would not be granting any requests for creating another demon child, let alone one who could potentially be half-angel, the Radio Demon felt something in his chest twinge. Just a little spark. The tiniest splinter of empathy, which rubbed relentlessly at the calloused flesh of his withered heart, blistering it to reluctant sympathy and tenderness. 

Perhaps, just perhaps, in a year’s time when Vihkiel reappeared, Alastor would be just slightly more willing to talk. But he had been too careless in his first attempt, he would not risk someone who he was even so much as fond of again. Further, if he was to attempt to blood-bond a low-ranking demon and a high-powered angel, the results could be something far beyond his ability to contain. 

He was going to have to experiment first and refine the process at its most base level. He needed a guinea pig. Some valueless individual whose potential suffering would not grieve him. 

Fortunately, it seemed that Hell had an abundance of newly-hopefuls who now looked to him with reverent awe. So many fools, eager to make a deal. The only question was, what to ask in return? There was so much more to potentially gain than just knowledge. He vowed to choose his targets carefully.

From a pair of imps, whose grief from reproductive woes was severe enough to overcome their fear of discovery, he secured a passage to Earth for what they believed to be an innocuous-enough visit to a few choice cemeteries. Flowers were left, and a few fragments of bone were collected while his escorts were distracted. 

From a high-ranking reptilian Overlord, a sliver of wood was obtained. Contained in a gilded vial of crystal, it gleamed like a poison-tipped arrow. A sliver of a long-ago spear, stained with blood. Even sealed in the stasis crystal, it burned Alastor’s hand to hold the thing. Bouros would not disclose how he had come to possess the item, no matter how Alastor pressed. 

From that point onward, his reputation was cemented. The Radio Demon, no longer just a fearsome devourer of souls and flesh; but also a highly-selective bringer of life itself into the cursed depths of Hell. The desperate began to actively seek him, but he had done all the experimentation that he deemed necessary for his curiosity. 

The few who had successfully sought him out were the only ones who knew just how high the price for his aid truly was – that it came with the burdens of blood-bound vows of loyalty and a viciously tripwired signature. There were few prizes that he desired enough to bargain for now. The potential clientele he would consider for his services was small, but he still hesitated to consider granting Niffty such a gift. 

Who knew what the true motivations of her erstwhile lover were, anyway? How could he be trusted? Could Alastor maintain power over an entity created from such a union? The memory of own son’s tumultuous power attempting to awaken still haunted the Radio Demon. Would Niffty’s child’s power be greater? Or would Niffty’s own nature dominate the new being? Would this creature be an invaluable ally to his child, or a terrifying threat?

Husker had opined that their child would need friends. Alastor could only hope that granting the wishes of their fellow sinners would not prove to be a fatal mistake.


	11. Aftershocks, Omens and Afterwards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are many kinds of parents, and many circumstances of parenthood. All of them challenging, and some even tragic. Alastor had never expected to find himself involved in so many of them. He had no idea what he was setting in motion when he decided to make his husband’s long-forsaken dream a reality.
> 
> Hell would never be the same, but there were repercussions elsewhere as well that he would never have expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow this took a while. I apologize that I ended up redoing the end of this story about three times, but we’re finally here at the end of this story of Al and Husk becoming parents at last. I hope you enjoy the conclusion!

Somewhere in the haloed ring of Humility, a scream of horror rang out. The sainted soul who had made the noise fell to her knees, reaching for the puddle of water that had just been a perfect, icy snowball in a bowl on her coffee table.

”No," Marie sobbed, falling against the sofa. "Please, no!"

Vihkiel's power had left the frozen thing seconds before, and it had melted away before her horrified eyes. Something had either happened to the angel, or to her son, and the Day of Hell’s Cleansing was mere days away.

"Miccy," she pleaded, desperately desiring that whatever this misfortune was, it was falling on someone other than her son, "Please be safe! Whatever's happening, please be safe!"

In Hell, someone else was awaiting the fateful day with far more hope. The Extermination Day was nearly here, and Niffty was absolutely not ready!

Niffty darted quickly from one end of her cozy kitchen to the other, creating a whirlwind of activity as she cleaned and sanitized away all evidence of the morning's breakfast. There was so much to do, and so little time! The anticipation was making her heart beat in double time, because she had such a good feeling about this year’s event.

Alastor had been so conversive lately. Over the past few months, he’d been full of questions about her wonderful Vihkky, and she’d blushed and squealed her way through answering as many of them as she could.

From the first time she’d seen the wonderful angel upon finding herself temporarily dead (Oh and he was just so tall and handsome! He had the kindest eyes! All five of them!), to the day that they’d made their uniquely long-distance relationship official (He asked me! I thought I’d have to be the one, but he asked me! He was so flustered, it was adorable!), she’d been eager to share. She’d told him everything that she thought pertinent and even a few things that weren’t.

He seemed to find the secondhand story of how Vihkiel came to be the Seal’s guardian quite interesting, but Niffty herself found the tale quite distasteful. She hated that she was glad it had happened. The two of them would never have met, otherwise.

Alastor was going to say yes this year, she just knew it. She was going to re-introduce her Vihkky to the Radio Demon, and they were going to actually have a conversation together. She was certain of the outcome this time.

They would get along, she had complete confidence that the little bit of humbling last year had done her sweet angel some good. Vihkiel would have his patience again, now that he wasn’t attempting to do this on his own and surprise her on a tight schedule. He and Alastor actually had a lot in common, and she had been doing her best to tell Alastor about how alike they were when it came to someone they loved.

Alastor had been warming up to the notion of helping her steadily. These days, the look in his eyes was more curiosity and scheming instead of suspicion and fear. He had asked her so many questions about her physical capabilities that she was positive that he was making calculations and planning.

She was going to be a mom! It was coming someday soon! There was no question! Vihkky had warned her with melancholy certainty that he wouldn’t get to share parenthood with her, but he’d be with her in his own way. He seemed to find the notion mournful, but Niffty just knew that it was going to be okay!

She was so excited that she couldn't contain it, and went twirling across the room with a giddy shriek of delight. It was going to be nearly perfect; it was all going to be just so nearly perfect!

As she spun past the table with the mop, something crashed to the floor behind her. The little cyclops paused in her work, startled by the noise. The delicate crystal clock that had been hanging on the wall behind her had fallen, shattering into innumerable pieces that sprayed across the damp floor.

It had been a gift, and one that was as precious as the person who'd given it to her. The burning fires of Hell's daylight that spilled through the window behind her were striking the broken fragments, splintering into prismatic beads that gleamed with horrible portent from the wet, blood red tiles of the floor.

It had been made of holy magic- Vihkky’s magic- and it had just shattered. Niffty's breath left her in a horrified gasp. "Vihkiel..."

A rough, stuttering spray of holy power erupted into being behind her, and she was suddenly eclipsed by a tremendous shadow that blocked out the light from the kitchen window.

"Hello, my little jewel," the wounded angel wheezed as he bled all over her freshly-mopped floor. "I'm afraid that this is to be our final meeting." The tall figure collapsed then, a limp plummet to the wet tile that the tiny cyclops was completely at a loss to prevent.

"Oh no... no no! Hang on!" The tiny cyclops cried, darting to his side. His five eyes were unfocused and glassy, and the burning light within them seemed dimmer. The multiple large wings that encircled his back were limp and lifeless.

Niffty bit back a sob at the sight of the large hole that passed straight through the angel's chest. It was a death blow, but not a clean one. Serving at Alastor's side for so long had come with an education on multiple useful subjects, and this one was no different. She was familiar with the ways of wounds, and her trained eye could clearly see the malice in the injury. Instead of being made with the intent of eliminating the target quickly, this one had been made with the purpose of making her beloved angel suffer.

The edges of the injury were hot- burning with the unquenchable fire of holy power. An angelic weapon, that was what had been used on her sweetheart. Had they been found out? Had Heaven cast its unfair judgement on their relationship and sent Vihkiel to die a slow, lingering final death in front of her?

Pushing her emotions aside, Niffty stood. There wasn't any time to think about all of that. She had to do something, and fast. She needed help. She ran to her bedroom and grabbed the snow globe that was sitting on her bedside table. Glittering red sparkles swirled around the familiar tiny sculpture inside. Without giving the tiny radio a second glance, Niffty threw the item to the ground.

The magical glass burst apart as the effigy struck the floor, and a gleaming red sigil snapped into being. No sooner had the image emblazoned itself on the hardwood than Alastor had appeared before her, microphone in hand. Before he could speak, the tiny demoness had leapt into the air and seized him by the sleeve, desperately scrambling to climb him as she pleaded for aid.

“Alastor! You’ve got to help him!” Niffty’s voice was a desperate screech as she hung from his arm. “Please hurry! Please! Please! Please! There’s so much blood! I don’t know how he made it here!” The Radio Demon could only stare at first, overwhelmed by the stream of consciousness pleading that was being thrust upon him.

"Niffty my dear," he interrupted, catching the little cyclops by the back of her dress and lifting her up to eye level. "Of whom are we speaking?

A few minutes later, Alastor found himself in the kitchen, staring in shock. The impossibly powerful figure who had merely willed himself inside of Alastor's magically-protected home was lying in a spreading pool of his own gleaming blood. He'd roused when prodded, and now a rueful smile was on Vihkiel's face as he met Alastor's gaze. Niffty had been sent scurrying upstairs to tear sheets into bandages; busy work to distract her while Alastor analyzed the situation.

With a grimace, the Radio Demon knelt over the bloodied angel, considering the gaping wound in his chest. "You're dying," he announced at last, and the lanky being let out a wet wheeze of a laugh.

"It's a slow process, but I am indeed getting there," Vihkiel agreed. "I never assumed that I would survive Judgement, but my little jewel, she is such an optimistic one. I am merely glad to have seen her one last time. I- I regret that I have caused her such grief by coming here like this. It was a sinful act, motivated by my own selfish desires."

The angel let out a sputtering sigh, letting his head fall back against the wall behind him. The soft curls of his pale hair framed his face like a blood-spattered hood. "It's fitting that I should perish in Hell," he muttered. "I have been discovered with contraband, and it was all that was needed for a case to be made against me. They say I was preparing to abandon my post, and for that I have been cast down in suffering by my peers. I have given them no reason for my actions. They have gained nothing from me but the satisfaction of knowing I shall perish either by these wounds or the aggravation of them by the inhabitants of this sphere."

The holy glow of Vihkiel's body dimmed a little at that, and he bowed his head. His burning red eyes fluttered shut in shame. "I have failed in nearly every duty I have ever held, now. I can only plead for one last opportunity to do the only one that truly matters.”

Alastor’s gaze met that of the suffering angel, and felt the core of his very being go cold at the sorrowful desperation that he saw there. Vihkiel, either unknowing or uncaring of his shock, spoke in a soft, sad voice. “I erred considerably in my first attempt, but I ask you again, Radio demon... Alastor... I will beg if I must. I have neither pride nor dignity when it comes to her. Please... Reconsider granting my sweet Niffty her heart's desire. Perhaps I can undo some of the tremendous evil I have done her if my death can at least mean something for her other than suffering."

"You believe her to be in a fit state to carry a child?" Alastor demanded, his conflicting emotions boiling at the notion. "The most conservative calculations that I have made on the subject point to the dreadful possibility that it could kill her. And with your blood- angelic blood in the mix..." He took a steadying breath before he finished the thought. "It would be a final death."

"My little jewel is too frail for such a thing," the dying angel agreed. "That's why I'm volunteering. Use me, before I succumb. Use my form as the vessel. I told your mother once that I would give much to be with her, in even the smallest of ways. If I can give her what she wants so desperately, then perhaps.. perhaps she can forgive me.

Alastor's senses briefly went off the air, the room seemed to slide sideways under his feet at the proposal. "You're serious," he hissed, stunned by the notion. "It would be a gamble if it would even work! I shudder to think of how she would react if it did not. Niffty would never forgive either of us for doing such a thing!"

"Vihkky..."

The sound of Niffty's soft whimper startled them both. Alastor whirled at the sound, and found himself staring into a heartbroken Niffty's single eye. An uncomfortable sensation twisted again in his core, and he averted his eyes, stepping back out of the room so that the diminutive demoness could have some semblance of privacy with her dying lover.

"It's really that bad, isn't it?" Niffty's voice asked. Vihkiel must have made some indication to confirm it, as she fell into inconsolable sobs almost immediately after. "Oh Vihkky... please no!"

"Forgive me, my dear Niffty," the angel tutted. "I've done you evil once again. I am so sorry. If only I had left you be, this wouldn't be happening. I did tell you that I was simply no good for you, my precious one."

"Don't say that!" The little demoness objected through her tears. "Don't ever say that! You’ve been nothing but wonderful to me, Vihkiel!"

Alastor made a regretful face before stepping outside. The hellshine was bright, and the little flowers arranged in the window box were colorful and cheery. Damnation continued on, as always, without regard for the foibles of its inhabitants.

The Radio Demon let out a sigh of static as he stood in the mid-morning light, considering. Could he really do it? Could he attempt to fuse Niffty's dying lover with her blood? What dire sort of creation would that birth?

Still, his warped heart protested. It was too easy to see himself in Vihkiel’s terrible gaze; a lost soul whose only true meaning was found in the bond he shared with someone else.

With a shiver, he reached out a hand, stretching his power through his connection with Husk. There. He let his eyes fall closed as he embraced the strength they shared. Gossamer stands of something far stronger than anything material tied them.

How? How had he been this fortunate? To have this, and to keep it? It was more than he could bear to consider alone. He pulled, and Husk snapped into being before him, cradling a sleeping Chance in his arms.

"What the absolute FUCK, Alastor," Husk hissed, mindful of the dozing toddler cradled against his chest. "What have I told you about yanking me through Space without any warning? Goddamn it, you scared the shit out of me!"

The winged cat demon paused, taking a closer look at his husband's pallid features. The chimera's sharp eyes traveled over Alastor's face and posture quickly, noting and categorizing all of the subtle tells that were on display. His anger cooled to worry, then. With a softer tone, he asked "What's happened?"

It took a moment for Alastor to answer. "It seems our friend Niffty's beloved has... fallen upon misfortune," Alastor finally managed to say, reaching out to pull his little family close. "He's been dealt a fatal wound and cast out of Heaven. He's dying, Husker. He's asked again about a child. He's pleaded to be allowed to be the one to... to..."

Alastor's long fingers carded through the fluffy fur lining one of his sleeping child's ears, his voice soft and lost. "Husker... what should I do?"

Husk's cautious expression had fallen to shock as Alastor spoke. The two of them stared down at Alastor's hand as he combed through Chance's head fur. "Shit," Husk muttered. "Fucker really wants to go out with a bang, doesn't he?"

Alastor let out a startled laugh at the comment before stifling his amusement. "He begged me, Husker. He begged me to have his death mean something more for Niffty than heartbreak. What should I do?"

Husk shook his head and reached up to lay his hand atop Alastor's own, stilling it on the child's head. "Al... I can't make that call for ya. This's your decision, and you're the only one who has the judgement to make it. It doesn't matter what I think, what that angel thinks, or even what Niffty thinks. It's on you to decide what to do, here."

The Radio Demon grimaced, and raised his head to meet Husk's serious gaze. "You sound far too much like Lucifer today, Husker. He said something quite similar to me, when I asked him about the notion. He said it was my responsibility, and that I would bear the burden of it, whatever the decision was."

Husk's expression twisted as if he was going to say something derisive about the comparison, but then he shrugged it off with a sigh. "Well Al, what's it going to be?" Chance stirred as his father pulled away, the baby blinking large, sleepy eyes at Alastor as he settled on a decision. The doubt fled from his gaze as he considered the child in his husband's arms. He would do what he could, and Heaven could take a flying leap into the void.

"Let them know that I am gathering my things, Husker. I will return shortly." With that, Alastor vanished in a swirl of magical sigils.

Husk muttered a soft curse to himself as his son squirmed restlessly against him. This was going to fucking suck. "Well, we're playing messenger, kiddo. Let's go see Auntie Niffty."

When Alastor returned, it was a brief stopover to teleport the lot of them to a familiar room in the Pentagram Palace. The soft greys and gentle pastels of the room that had once been the princess' nursery were the setting of the desperate magical alchemy.

Charlie and Lucifer were waiting when the little group arrived, and Chance's godmother quickly swept him into her arms and out of the frenzy of activity that erupted around the dying angel. The toddler, enthralled by all the excitement, objected noisily. Niffty found herself pulled from her beloved's side, attached to a vial collecting bright red blood from her arm as Alastor frantically surveyed his pages of notes and frantically reformulated his calculations.

As Husk attempted to assist his husband, Lucifer stepped over to the long sofa to regard Vihkiel with a sad, knowing smile. The fallen angel opened his mouth and let out a strange, lilting call that gave the other occupants of the room pause. Vihkiel's five eyes shone with delight at the sound, and after a moment he returned the greeting with one of his own.

"The fuck's that about?" Husk whispered to Alastor as they watched the two angels join voices into a soft duet that chattered, trilled and crooned, filling the room with a strange, almost hypnotic song.

It was Charlie that answered, bouncing Chance gently on his hip as the enthralled toddler stared at the source of the odd music, his ears fully tuned to the unfamiliar sound. "It's the High Holy Verse," she replied, voice hushed and reverent.

"Angels are creatures of music, you know? They were created from it, and their powers- even their very beings flow from it. They have a whole language in song that only they truly understand. It's intricate, full of intertwined meanings and melodies. Dad's tried to teach me, but I'm afraid I only get the gist of it. A lot of the subtleties are lost on me, unfortunately."

The music began to fall away at last, the angel-song fading as the light in Vihkiel's burning eyes dimmed. Lucifer stepped back from his sibling with an oddly serious look on his face. "Lil' gal, you'd best hurry and say your goodbyes while Vihk's still got the sense to hear 'em," he announced, and Niffty fairly tore her way free of Alastor’s equipment to run to him. She swayed unsteadily, almost falling against the sofa that the tall angel was stretched out on.

"Vihkky... I’m so sorry! I didn’t know this was going to happen! I should never have told you... if I hadn’t, then this wouldn’t be happening!" the cyclops pleaded, wiping at her face as she clung to his limp hand. The wound in the angel's chest had grown, the burning, hateful embers seemed to have traveled throughout his body. It was possible to see the poisonous mass under his skin, like a slowly spreading coal fire seen through a thick sheet of ice. The injury was eating him alive from the inside out.

"It could end no other way. I am content, if I can try to give you a gift worthy of the love you have given me," he replied with a soft smile. "It shall all have been worth it. Be well, my little jewel. Be happy."

"Alastor," Lucifer suddenly snapped, and the Radio Demon's head snapped up in surprise from where he was mixing his elixirs. The fallen angel's gaze was sharp, nearly furious. "Do it. Now."

The deer demon swallowed back his objections. He wasn't ready. The potion wasn't ready. Niffty wasn't ready. None of that mattered any more, though. They were out of time. Vihkiel's body was nearly a shell, and was fading fast. He had no idea if this desperate gambit was going to work, and they would only get one shot at the attempt. All or nothing, it was showtime. He drew the glowing, hastily-concocted elixir into a syringe and ran forward to plunge it into the dying angel's side.

Vihkiel's faintly glowing form seemed to collapse in on itself before their eyes, drawing inward until there was only a mass, quickly surrounded by the curl of his many pale, feathery wings on the sofa. 

Niffty's gasp was a soft squeak of denial as she reached forward. For a breathless moment, the gleaming wings bore her trembling hands before they crumpled like burnt paper and fell away in smoldering cinders. A smooth, round shape was left behind. It was approximately the size of Niffty's head, roughly oval-shaped, and colored a dull ash grey.

"It's an egg?" Alastor demanded, both intrigued and baffled by the turn that the transformation had taken. "Why is there an egg?" Husk pushed his way to his husband's side and stared down at the grey shell with rapt attention.

"Now, why would it be anything else?" Lucifer asked rhetorically. "Don't tell me you've just plumb never heard about angels and eggs! It's a healing cycle of rebirth an' all! Vihkiel, he couldn't heal himself, but if you managed to make something new... Well, it looks a bit off, and feels a bit wrong, but I suppose that it is what it is. We just gotta wait now, and see if the little ol' thing's viable.”

Niffty's eye watered, pulling her hand back from the alien thing, fearing to touch it. It trembled slightly, and she gasped as a series of thin spiderweb-line cracks in a blood red glow began to form on its slate-colored shell. "No!" she pleaded, hands flying to her mouth as the cracks slowly widened. "It didn't work?!"

Lucifer's voice was low, nearly mournful. "Oh. This is mighty unfortunate. I'd never heard tell of an angel’s egg breaking, but I've never heard of one coming from what we just took a notion to try and do, either. If it's shattered, then I don't rightly know what we can do. It's a shame, but looks like it's inevitable that the poor lil' thing just ain't gonna make it."

Alastor collapsed to his knees, stricken by the failure. He gently reached out to pat Niffty's back in consolation, and the tiny demoness turned and flung herself on him to sob. Charlie turned away from the sight, eyes watering with empathy for her friend. Her father stepped back beside her, pulling off his hat and placing a pale hand on her shoulder.

In the princess' arms, Chance peered back over her shoulder with bright, interested eyes. Something was happening, and he couldn't quite see! He clutched at his Auntie Charlie’s shoulder, muttering nonstop requests for her to turn around and show him what was happening.

Husk found himself the only one still standing over the cracked egg. His brows were drawn tightly over his eyes as he scrutinized the thing. His head was full of weird goddamned instincts screaming at him so loudly that he could scarcely hear himself think. He both wanted them to shut the hell up and also just tell him what they wanted, already. Gingerly, he reached to pick the egg up, and focused his scrutiny more intently on it.

Okay, an egg. So what? What was setting him off so badly about this damn thing? A slight wavering motion caught the chimera's attention from the corner of his eye, and he caught a faint glimpse of his son. Chance was making a valiant attempt to see what all of the fuss was about, his red-tufted ears perked high above his head as he complained about wanting to see what was going on.

One of the nagging pieces fell into place as Husk considered his curious child. A baby. Alright, so it's a baby. Egg equals baby. Check. He sniffed the thing next, noting the cracks in the shell. That was no good, he decided. The baby's going to get dirty, or cold. Before he'd quite realized what he had done, he'd actually licked the thing.

He recoiled with a grimace. Yuck, it tasted like the bottom of an ash tray! Couldn't have that, it was going to have to have a cleaning, and after that he'd have to do something about patching and insulating the thing. Shit, everyone else was useless, so it was apparently up to him to keep the poor thing from freezing to perma-death. He needed a flexible bandage of some sort, but what could he use?

Alastor looked up at last from where Niffty had cried herself to exhaustion in his arms. His attention had finally been drawn by the weird noises his husband was making. Husk had settled in on the cleanest end of the sofa, and was carefully preening one of his wings. The cat demon was studiously chewing at a large feather that had somehow wronged him.

As Alastor watched, the brightly-colored thing came loose. Husker glanced up, looking him directly in the eye, and began intently licking at the thing. "What in blazes are you doing?!" the Radio Demon demanded, drawing the attention of the other occupants of the room.

Husk paused and shrugged, placing the dampened feather against the egg's shell and began wrapping it around the item like a feathery bandage. "I dunno, the baby's dirty or cold or some shit," he complained, affixing the ends of the feathers in place with careful claws. "My goddamned head won't stop screaming at me to do something about it, so here I am. You know how this shit happens to me. It's the same as with that little shit over there." He nodded in Chance's direction.

Alastor's baffled expression abruptly kicked over into dawning comprehension. There had been many an event of strange, nearly animal-like behavior in the care of their son when Chance was a newborn. It was instinct, Alastor had theorized. His husband’s oft-neglected, more feral side pushing its way to the forefront to ensure the safety of-

Of their very well cared-for son! "Husker, let me see that egg," he whispered urgently.

Husk's annoyed expression soured further, and he shifted, lying down on the sofa in a mass of tightly-curled limbs. "Go fuck yourself," he snapped, tucking the feather-wrapped egg beneath the wing on his right side and pulling the appendage tightly against himself. "I just told ya the baby's cold. Let the damn thing warm up first, idiot!" Alastor's face split in a broad grin as his husband grumbled to himself about having married a moron.

"Husk, what are you saying?" Charlie asked, walking over to stare at the cat demon as he sneered at Alastor. In her arms, Chance began reaching for Husk, chanting "Wanna see! Mama! What is it?" over and over until the cat demon reached up and scooped the toddler demon out of her grasp and into his own. As Husk settled the excited infant onto the sofa in front of him, the others drew closer, staring in shock.

"Husker believes that the angel's egg has not yet perished!" Alastor announced with a chuckle. "Well then! How long do you intend to play the broody hen, my love?"

Husk narrowed his eyes at the comment. "Til Niff's up and in shape to take over," he growled. "Goddamned animal instincts... they're annoying as fuck, but occasionally I guess they're good for something."

The chimera made a tolerant face at the delighted, affectionate way Chance was shoving his little head under the line of his jaw in a quest of the cat demon’s attention. "Ain't that right, ya little shit? Once in a while, it ain't so bad."

Niffty, sobbing anew, launched herself from Alastor's arm to throw her arms around Husk's neck. "Thank you," she sputtered out between hiccuping sobs. "Both of you! Thank you so much!"

Niffty's strange little egg was relinquished to her care several hours later after Alastor finally retrieved it from its grumpy volunteer nursemaid. The atmosphere was jubilant for most of the occupants of the room, but Charlie noticed her father departing the impromptu celebration.

She followed him across the throne room, hesitating as he threw wide the balcony doors and stepped out. His hands gripped the railing as he stared up at the luminous orb of Heaven, hanging far above their heads. Vihkiel’s death had been a warning.

"Dad? Are you okay?"

For a long moment, Lucifer said nothing. He remained in place, head turned up toward the gleam of long-ago judgement overhead. He didn't so much as turn a glance in her direction when he finally responded.

"Don't you worry none, Appleseed. Just taking a moment to ponder on something that Vihkiel told me. You get on back and enjoy your party, hear?"

Charlie lingered a moment longer, but her father remained silent as he watched the sky. He didn't dare speak his worries out loud, not even after his daughter had returned to her friends and the threat of being overheard was gone. He couldn't repeat the things Vihkiel had told him of the threat from one of his brothers, or of the dire certainty behind the words.

Once again, Lucifer had cast a stone into the pool of creation, and the ripples were being noted upstairs. They didn’t yet know what they were reacting to, but that Choir of busybodies wanted him to know they would be watching more closely. Well good for them. He was the Light-Bringer, one of the Original Choir, and they would do well to remember to be mindful of him.

It was a shame to lose Vihkiel, and the sympathetic ear he represented. Patience and mercy were gone from the Seal now, and the shield of sorts that it represented from Heaven's ire was all the weaker for it. Whoever Vihkiel's replacement was would be in a prime position to monitor the comings and goings of Hell.

Ironically, the only thing that Lucifer could do at this point was pray that his own plans to ensure his darling little sapling grew to her full potential were not culled before they could bear fruit. He struggled at times to understand Charlotte, but he was not his Father. Whatever sort of tree that she would be, he was going to ensure that she got the chance to grow into it. Even if it might mean destroying all that he built in the process, it would be a small price to pay for her safety and happiness.

It was all he could ask for as her parent, after all.

There were many conflicting omens in the air.

Athalie finished the long drink she'd taken of her fragrant tea, eyes closed against the gleaming white-gold light of Heaven's midday. When she opened them, the result was the same. The leaves swirled in the dregs of liquid that remained in her cup, and she frowned at the way they clustered. It was much like the way that the match sticks had broken this morning. Something was coming, and this time it had to do with her son.

That it was happening so fast on the heels of the ominous certainty of Vihkiel’s final demise was concerning. It made the small wings on her shoulders twitch. Alastor. Her sweet, darling Alastor. She was still scarcely certain if it was better or worse to know what had happened to him? Was it a hopeful omen or a dreadful one to know of his place in Hell?

He had been so different from the young man who had been her pride and joy as a young mother. He was a demon, and apparently one of some repute. He was known and feared throughout the ring of Pride and beyond, it seemed. He'd earned his way into damnation through murder, through cannibalism, and through dabbling with powers that she had warned him against so long ago.

She had seen the signs in life. She had known that his ambition and thirst for power would lead him down a dreadful road. Seeing him though... seeing had been different than knowing.

He was also a husband now, and according to whoever Vihkiel's source in Hell was, a positively besotted and doting one whose spouse was embarrassingly taken with him. He was also a father now, incredible as it was to consider. Incredible? More like impossible! All of the supernatural considerations aside, it just didn't seem plausible that her baby could have a baby of his own. If she had ever seen such a thing in the signs, she had never entertained it.

What had the child looked like? Vihkiel had told her and the spitfire of a saintly soul who was apparently now her in-law that Alastor had succeeded in both delivering the child safely and reviving his husband afterwards, but the angel had been coy about how the child looked. All that Athalie knew of her grandson was that his name was Chance, he was apparently quite cute, and that his parents both completely adored him.

He was a fortunate youngster, that boy. Would that her own son had been so lucky on that last count.

The antique cabinet radio in the small sitting room beside her abruptly hummed and crackled, and Athalie turned to frown at that next. The silly thing had been acting up lately, and it was going to be such a shame to throw it out. Placing her cup on the table, the doe-like soul stood and paced over to frown at the thing. The tall, soft ears poised atop her head flinched backwards at the noise the device was making. Times were once that a body could count on the appliances that they purchased in Heaven would last an after-lifetime. These days, the darned things were just-

"-ing... Test-"

Athalie's knees buckled, and she fell roughly into a seated position in front of the radio as it hummed with static. "May the Old Ways preserve me," she croaked hoarsely as she stared at the dials. The device was tuning itself, the display flickering and then glowing steadily with power.

And that voice... it couldn't be...

"-esting one, two... -ree! Alright, that seems to be the best I can do, so here's hoping that it is good enough. Ahem... This is Alastor, and with every ounce of my sincerity, I hope that I have properly managed to tune in on you, Maman. I am known as the Radio Demon, and my reach is considerable, but... well... it is a one-way connection, after all. I have no way to know if you have received me. I will simply choose to believe that it is so."

"Alastor... Oh, Alastor baby, you ingenious fool boy!" The Creole woman's hand flew to her mouth, eyes watering with tears that began to spill down her cheeks as her son's soft, melancholy voice spoke.

"And I shall, as you always advised, dedicate myself to that belief with all of my strength," Alastor continued, voice strengthening with his conviction. "I have... I’ve been so glad not to meet you here in Hell, Maman, and have chosen to believe that it was because you had never been here. Having that desperate hope revealed as truth has been a wondrous relief to me. I can only trust that you find Heaven agreeable."

"Child, it is no paradise," his mother muttered to herself in response. "Least of all because you're not here."

"I dearly wish that I could speak to you again," Alastor continued, his tone wistful. "I have so much that I would tell you. I.. ha.. I told Husker that, and his response was that I should attempt to broadcast to you. He's a clever one, my husband. Sharp as a tack." He hesitated before adding "Maman, you would adore him. _I_ love him so very, very much. I can't even begin to imagine how I have ever survived without him." Athalie could only nod in response, afraid to speak again for fear of talking over the voice coming from the staticky radio.

"We are doing well, all three of us. Husker's recovery has been a little slower than I had hoped, but his spirit has rebounded and oh Maman..." He took a deep, stuttering breath, giving a little laugh. "Ha... Maman, we have a son! We have the tiniest, most endearing little ball of big-eyed preciousness that you have ever seen. Husk has named him Chance, some sort of joke between himself and his own mother. I don't understand it, but I suppose that is immaterial. He's such a strange little creature, but so incredible...!"

Alastor spoke through the radio for hours, long after Athalie's joints had gone numb from her impromptu seat in the floor. She didn't dare move, though. If she moved, the fragile thread of magic that had connected her again with her son might fray and snap. She sat in the floor, listening with rapt attention, as Alastor rambled about his husband and child.

After that, Alastor moved on to telling her of his exploits in creating more children, who he hoped might prove to be friends for his son. He told her of a shy little imp girl, a precocious reptile boy, and now some new, mysterious being who had yet to be revealed. The notion that this new life had been carved out of the fallen Vihkiel's form, the remnants of his life a gift for a demon who'd somehow captured his holy heart, was both terrible and fascinating. Perhaps she had truly misjudged the angel.

It gave Athalie shivers to think that her boy had managed to forge such creations. It was blasphemous, wasn't it? But still- if it was being done out of love.... Could she fault him for it? No. Never.

The tender way that Alastor described his husband tending to the damaged egg was... well! It was the sweetest thing that she could recall hearing in all the decades that she had been in Heaven. It sounded like it was going to be touch and go for the half-angel child, but her son was cautiously optimistic that his Husk's instinctive care had saved the little being's life.

If only her son was a telephone demon, she thought as he digressed into speaking of another couple who had recently approached him. She wished fervently that she could reassure him that she could hear his incredible words, and reassure him that his desperate hope in reaching out to the unknown had been successful! All that she could do was listen, though, and the tales she was told were beyond anything she could have imagined. By the time Alastor ran out of words, her entire being was buzzing with energy.

When the radio at last fell silent again, she let herself fall to her side and stared back into the kitchen of her little apartment. The silence was almost oppressive, after so long in the embrace of her son's voice. A private broadcast for an audience of one, and it had been so bittersweet.

It shouldn’t be just for one, though. She had to find Marie again. They had only met twice, but she was certain that she could divine the other soul's location. Athalie scrambled to her feet, determined. She had a deadline to beat. Alastor was going to try to broadcast again in one week's time. His husband's mother deserved to hear what was happening with their children and grandson.

She was halfway to the door before she realized, with a laugh, that her fool son had never actually gotten around to telling her what the child looked like. Well, there was always next broadcast, she thought as she pulled open the door. For now, she needed to concentrate on the good news she had to share.


End file.
